


Why We Stay

by elfenphoenix



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Delinquent Keith, Does it count as major character death if one of them is dead from the beginning?, Ghost Lance (Voltron), I am salty af you have no idea, I'll tag it if someone wants me to, Langst, M/M, Note: This is NOT a horror story, Parole officer Shiro, Suicidal Thoughts, btw in this one Adashi lives, do I have to tag that?, does being in love with a ghost count as Necrophilia?, grim reaper Coran, in which case be warned, otherwise I try to keep the freaky shit to a minimum, paranormal investigator Pidge, spirit medium Allura, this fic is my safe haven, this is gonna be a big test of my romance-writing skills, unless you're terrified of tornadoes like the author is, well sort of, you'll find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfenphoenix/pseuds/elfenphoenix
Summary: Keith doesn’t really feel loneliness anymore. He’s gotten used to people fading in and out of his life without so much as an explanation. Why should the annoying but charming ghost haunting his “new” apartment be any different?Except he is.And eventually Keith has to accept that the only person he’s ever wanted to hold onto… is someone he can’t even touch.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're more comfortable reading in Spanish, check out MarcyDarkAngel's ongoing translation of Why We Stay on Wattpad here! It seems like an awful lot of work, so I can't thank them enough for putting in the effort.  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/168519321-why-we-stay-klance-traducci%C3%B3n

_Coran watched with a frown as the paramedics hauled the tarp-covered bodies out of the room, as one officer patted the back of the crying woman who had found the dead, as another explained to the landlord what had most likely occurred._

_There were no smiles to be seen anywhere-- though, in Coran’s line of work, there rarely were. You’d think he’d have gotten used to it, after decades of being a reaper, but he hadn’t. Every case was unique, and every case capable of leaving a lasting impression on his memory._

_He turned to the boy sitting atop the wardrobe, completely unnoticed by any of those hurrying in and out of the room. He stared blankly down at his feet, as if equally unaware of those around him._

_Coran cleared his throat, but still the boy didn’t look up._

_“Well, I suppose it’s time for you to go, uhhh…” Coran peeked at his list, “...Lance. Come on, I’ll show you the way. The journey isn't so hard, I promise you that!” He extricated his right hand from the folds of his robe, holding it out to the ghost._

_At this, finally, Lance looked up, but his gaze was still blank. He stared emotionlessly at Coran’s hand, then turned away._

_“Go away.”_

_“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve been assigned!” Coran explained, doing his best to sound cheery. “See? Here’s the list for Reaper 476-- that’s me-- under entry seven-thousand eighty-four: Lance McClain. That’s you, correct?”_

_Lance still didn’t look at him. “No.”_

_“I’m not here to hurt you, my boy.”_

_“I know,” Lance answered, his voice shaking. “I’m just… not ready to go yet.”_

_He pushed Coran’s outstretched hand away from him, watching the police officers begin to escort the woman and the landlord out of the building._

_Coran closed his eyes, pulling his hand back. There was procedure for souls that resisted the Passing, but for the most part it was up to the respective reaper. And Coran didn’t think this boy was going to hurt anyone._

_“...alright. I won’t force you to come. But remember; you can’t stay in this world forever. Here’s my business card-- whenever you’re ready to go, just let me know! I’ll be here faster than you can say ‘budgie smugglers!’”_

_He gave Lance what he hoped was an encouraging smile, setting the card down on the wardrobe, then patted his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, son. Eventually.”_

_“Eventually,” Lance repeated, watching the ambulance pull out of the driveway, not bothering to turn on its lights or sirens._

_As Coran turned, opening a shadow-gate to his next case, he looked back, frowning, at the newborn ghost._

_Yes, every case is different, he thought. Every story unforgettable. He doubted, very much, that this one would be an exception._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ghost!Lance fics are a dime a dozen, but this is mine. And for once DOESN'T involve Keith as particularly interested in the supernatural, like he usually is in fanon. He doesn't go out looking for ghosts. He doesn't need to.


	2. Housewarming

Keith looked around at the apartment, its beige walls, sun-bleached curtains, calcium-coated sink, slightly mold-spotted wall baseboard corners, spots on the floor where the varnish on the hardwood had been worn away. Overall, much more pleasant than the average place within his price range, especially this close to the downtown area.

“It’s a sizable apartment for the area-- you’d get a separate bedroom and living room,” the landlord was saying, although Keith wasn’t really paying attention. “It’s fully furnished, but that’s just because I haven’t thrown anything out. Feel free to get rid of it if you don’t like it.”

Keith ran his finger over the wardrobe surface, then blew off the dust that had clung to it. “I’ll take it.”

The landlord stopped midstep toward the bathroom. “What, you’re sure? You haven’t even looked around.”

“Yeah whatever.” To be honest, he didn’t really care about how old the place was, or how long it had been tenantless, or even if the damn plumbing worked. It was a roof over his head that was close enough to Shiro’s place that he could walk there. Which was one of Shiro’s conditions for helping him _get_ a new apartment, after getting kicked out of his final foster home.

The landlord hesitated, then shrugged, fishing the key out of his pocket and tossing it to Keith. “Alright, well, have your down payment to me by Friday. The bus stop’s two blocks down, but I wouldn’t count on it being on time.”

“Yeah, sure.” He really wished the old man would get the hint and get out of there.

“Oh, and don’t bother complaining about the cold.”

“Cold?” It was the middle of summer.

“Yeah. All the tenants kept complaining that the heat in this place don’t work right. Gets real cold sometimes. I’ve done everything-- cleaned the pipes, replaced ‘em, checked the windows, insulation… even replaced the whole furnace. Spent a pretty penny on it, but…” he shrugged. “Nothing works. Just gonna have to live with it, I guess.”

Keith winced at this-- he hated the cold-- but it wasn’t strong enough to fully deter him. “Thanks for the warning,” Keith replied, actually meaning it this time.

The landlord nodded, making his way to the door. “Well, take care of yourself, kid.”

“Do my best,” Keith answered.

Lying.

~

A knock on the door told him that Shiro was there, bringing Keith’s belongings over from his own house.

Keith moved to open the door, stubbing his toe on a floorboard sticking out above the rest for about the fourth time since coming in.

He swore between his teeth, but continued toward the door, swinging it open hard enough to hit the wall behind it.

Shiro appeared in the doorway, looking as amicable as ever, still in his police uniform, a friendly smile on his face, and holding a coffeemaker with a shiny red bow stuck to the top.

“Hey, kid!” he exclaimed, holding out the coffeemaker. “Brought your stuff. The bike, too, though I had to take the front wheel off to fit it in the backseat of my squad car.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me ‘kid.’ I’m eighteen and you’re not my dad. You’re only like 25.”

“Technically I’m only six,” Shiro remarked, which did get a snort from Keith, and then shouldered his way inside, stepping over the loose floorboard and looking around as he set the coffeemaker down on the low living room table. “Hey, this place is pretty nice. It’s really only 600 a month?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing it’s because of the heating problem the landlord mentioned. Though I haven’t noticed anything…” he shivered, hairs standing up on the back of his neck. “...wrong.”

“Well, I’ll bring you some extra blankets next time I stop by. In the meantime, I got you a housewarming present. Since I guess you could use the warming.”

Keith snorted again, digging through his backpack to pull out a sweater jacket, then slid it over himself and zipped it shut. “Didn’t happen to bring any _coffee_ with it, did you?”

Shiro frowned. “Sorry. Gonna have to go get that yourself after you get settled in. But I can order pizza for you. Hang out a little, help you unpack.”

“Shiro, you already--” Keith sighed.

“I know, I know, you’re sick of me sticking my nose in your life. But come on, I’ve known you for three years! It’s my job to keep tabs on you, make sure you’re not getting into any more trouble.” He reached out to ruffle Keith’s hair, but Keith ducked out of the way.

“It _was_ your job. When I was a juvenile. Look, thanks for taking care of me. Really. But I can’t keep going to you every time I fuck up my own life. You’ve got your own problems, right?”

He felt bad for snapping at Shiro immediately after he did it--he wasn’t really angry at _him_ \-- more at himself. That Shiro felt the _need_ to look after him. Ever since Keith had been brought in as a juvenile problem case for attacking a teacher. And again for swearing at a customer. And again for a few accounts of arson at various foster homes. Every time, Shiro had looked out for him, helped him get a new job, kept him out of Juvie. After a rotating door of foster homes, and just as many schools, Shiro was probably the only person who’d ever really given a damn about him. Keith owed him a lot. Too much, actually. And it dug at him. Sometimes he wondered when Shiro was going to give up on him, since all he’d ever done was cause him trouble.

“Sorry,” he tossed out, averting his gaze. “Just… stressed out. I’ll go get my luggage from your car.” He pushed past Shiro, who frowned after him.

Then he sighed, following Keith out the door and down the stairs. “I’ll get your bike out and put it back together, then. You got a bike rack in this place?” he asked, clicking his key fob to open the trunk.

“Not that I saw,” Keith answered, lifting the hood and grabbing the handle of the first heavy suitcase and hauling it out of the trunk of the police car. “I was just gonna bring it in the living room when I’m not using it.”

Shiro paused in pulling the bicycle out of the backseat to raise an eyebrow at him. “Keith, you live on the third floor.”

“So it’ll be exercise.”

Shiro shrugged, then lifted the bike out, leaning it against the car until he could get the wheel back on.

It didn’t take long for them to get the two suitcases and the bicycle into the apartment, but it was getting colder in there the more the day warmed up. Shiro shivered as he stepped over the loose floorboard again and leaned the larger trunk against the back of the loveseat.

“Landlord wasn’t kidding about the cold in here, huh? You sure he said he tried to fix it?”

“Said he tried everything, even replacing the furnace.”

“Huh. You think it’s a ghost?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “What, you believe in ghosts?”

“You’d be surprised how many calls the station gets from people who think they have ghosts. Most of them turn out to just be prank calls or electrical problems, but sometimes… they don’t. Every officer I know has cop stories, but cop _ghost_ stories never get old. Still, it’s because of that it’s hard to say if any of them are actually true.”

Shiro shrugged again, gesturing to the luggage. “You want me to help you unpack? Or clean? It doesn’t look like anyone’s lived here for about three years. It’s pretty dusty.”

“I’m fine, Shiro. Really. Thanks.”

“Don’t want that pizza?”

Keith shook his head. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“It’s alright; I’m off-duty.”

But just then, a voice crackled over the radio on Shiro’s hip.

“Takashi, we’ve got an armed robbery case for you. John got one of the kids in custody; looks like he’s one of yours.”

Shiro sighed, glancing at Keith. “Sorry, kid, I--”

“It’s fine, Shiro. Go on. I swear, I’m not gonna start any fires, or get in any fights. I’m living alone now. There’s no one for me to fight _with_.”

Shiro hesitated, then pulled the radio from his hip and gave a quick confirmation that he was on his way. That done, he turned back to Keith. “Look, I _know_ you’re a good kid. You’ve just had a rough life so far. Think of this as your fresh start. I’m just a couple blocks away if you ever need me. For _anything_.”

Keith managed to smile. “Thanks, Shiro.”

~

Keith never really bothered fully unpacking his suitcases. Just took out the dishes and tossed them in the sink, then moved the coffeemaker from the living room table to the actual kitchen counter. The rest he just left as it was. He’d fit his entire life into those two trunks and his backpack for as long as he could remember-- always ready for the next time he’d be forced to relocate.

He did end up ordering pizza, but most of it went into the fridge because it too quickly became time for him to go to work.

He started out just as the sun began to go down-- it would be faster on his bike, but he wanted to familiarize himself with the area first. So he walked, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, occasionally having to remind himself to actually look _up_ and at his surroundings, because that was the whole damn reason he was walking.

Actually, now that he was out of the apartment, he was sweating like crazy. His sweater jacket was fleece-lined, but the evening air was still rather summery. He paused, stepping to the side of a street stall so that, as he took his jacket off, he wouldn’t get in the way of the people heading home from work.

The girl at the stand was still setting it up, adjusting displays of crystal jewelry and sticks of incense, draping a banner across the front that read “Altea Mystics: palm-readings, tarot, spiritual cleansings.” She stood up a plaque displaying the prices of her services, then just as Keith was about to walk away, his jacket safely shoved back into his backpack, a gust of wind came and knocked over the jewelry stand, scattering the crystals across the pavement.

She rushed to grab them, and Keith felt compelled to help her, since a few of them had fallen at his feet. He held them out to her, and she took them, straightening up.

“Thank you, truly. Can you help me put up the second post, here? It helps keep the wind off. It’s not all that heavy-- just easier with a second pair of hands.”

Since Keith still had plenty of time to get to work, he shrugged and held the post up while she screwed it into place.

“There,” she remarked, smiling. “Again, thank you. I’m Allura.”

“Keith.”

“Well, Keith, may I offer you something in return? A palm reading, perhaps?”

 _What the hell, why not?_ Keith thought, then said, “maybe not a palm reading, but… what do you know about ghosts?”

She perked up, interested. “They’re my specialty! I can cleanse evil spirits, or commune with lost loved ones, or-- or, well, I think I can. To be honest, I’m still learning.”

That wasn’t exactly encouraging, but since Keith was getting the advice for free, he figured he might as well keep going. He explained the cold in his apartment, how it came and went, and how no one could find an explanation for it, except his… friend (he hesitated to say “parole officer”), who had joked that it was a ghost. Allura, to her credit, listened with rapt attention, entirely undistracted by the large gray cat rubbing against her shins.

“I see… well, if that’s all there is, it’s hard to say for sure it’s a ghost… why don’t you take Blue?!”

Keith blinked. “Blue?”

Allura leaned over and lifted the big gray cat into her arms, before it settled onto her shoulder. “Many animals, especially cats, are sensitive to paranormal phenomena. If there’s something in your apartment, Blue can help you find it.”

“You’re just going to _give_ me your cat?”

“Oh, she’s not mine. Just not adopted yet. So? How about it?”

The cat turned to look at him, its big yellow eyes seeming to peer straight through his head and into his thoughts.

An unadopted cat, huh? Maybe she and Keith had something in common.

“Well, I’m on my way to work,” he replied, “so…”

“Ah, the night shift? I work mostly at night, too, so I’ll likely still be here when you return. You can take Blue then.”

Seeing no way out of this, and not really caring one way or another, Keith agreed, then made his way to work, leaving Allura the Mystic and the cat-that-wasn’t-hers behind him.

~

The cat did seem to see things.

Ever since stopping by Allura’s stand after work and picking up Blue to take her home (quite literally-- he’d just had to scoop her up and carry her home. She never made any attempt to escape from Keith’s shoulder), Blue had been staring up at various places in the apartment and meowing. She would always return to Keith to rub against his leg, but even as he would stroke her, she would be staring up at the light fixture, or above the loveseat, or atop the wardrobe, and meow softly. Not particularly angrily-- there was no hissing or growling-- but enough that Keith couldn’t ignore it. He knew cats had a tendency to stare at empty space, but Blue did it _way_ too often.

Of course, _now_ she was meowing at Keith for a good reason-- he hadn’t given her any food since he’d gotten her, and she seemed to have Opinions about that. Keith had been trying to ignore her in favor of getting some sleep before noon, but once the claws came out, he got the point.

“Alright, alright, alright!” he groaned, pushing the insistent cat off of his chest and sitting up. “I don’t have any cat food on me right now, so you’re gonna have to wait until I go grocery shopping.”

Now that he was out from under his mound of blankets, he shivered, his breath frosting out in front of him. He got dressed quickly-- less time for his bare skin to be in contact with the frigid air-- and then dumped out the contents of his backpack onto his bed, checking to make sure the biggest pocket was fully cleared.

“You have any particular brand preferences?” he asked Blue, who was again staring fixedly up at the top of the wardrobe. “I’m not getting you Beneful. Or Blue Buffalo. I heard they’ve been getting animals sick. But I’m not rich, so I can’t get you the really good stuff.”

Blue didn’t answer, just swished her tail and continued staring at the empty wall above the wardrobe.

Keith sighed. “Well, have fun with the ghost.”

He closed and locked the door, heading down toward the parking lot, just in time to see a big guy leaning over and pulling the dead flowers out of the small vase at the bottom of the steps, then replacing them with fresh ones. He had a gentle face, smiling a bit to himself as he arranged the flowers in the vase, the tiny blue flowers like little fireworks against the dark background of his huge hands.

He didn’t look up as Keith passed, and Keith didn’t bother saying hello. Still, the sight of the big guy arranging flowers in a vase at the bottom of the steps stuck in his mind, though he wasn’t sure why.

~

On his way back from the grocery store, his backpack stuffed with a small bag each of cat food and kitty litter, a bag of ground coffee, a loaf of bread, and a jar each of peanut butter and jelly, Keith passed by the place he had met Allura the previous night. The “Altea Mystics” stand was gone, but he did see Allura, coming out of a building whose windows read, “Soft Paws Animal Shelter.”

She was setting up an A-board sign advertising free cat adoptions, and looked up when Keith stopped his bike, her face lighting up with curiosity.

“Hello again! How is Blue settling in? I thought she’d be a good fit for you. You have a chaotic aura around you, and Blue is good for bringing peace and guidance.”

Keith looked at her pointedly, and then at the “Soft Paws Animal Shelter” embroidered on her polo lapel. “Day job?” he asked, letting the sarcasm drip liberally from his voice. Clearly, Allura had less than spiritual motives for foisting the cat on him.

“Oh, yes, I, well… mysticism doesn’t pay the bills quite yet,” she stammered, reddening. “But what I said about cats and paranormal phenomena is _true_ …”

Keith waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine. All she does is stare at empty space and meow, anyway.”

At this, Allura froze, then looked up at him slowly, her eyes lighting up. “Does she really?!”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Incredible! You might _really_ have a ghost! May I investigate? I would try to communicate with it, or cleanse it, if that’s what you wish… to be honest, I’d love the opportunity to try either. Or perhaps a spell to reveal its incorporeal form--”

“NO,” Keith answered flatly. He didn’t like the idea of strangers in his apartment, let alone a street witch. “Can’t you just… sell me a charm or something?”

Allura pouted, but nodded. “Oh, alright. Wait here a moment.” She disappeared inside the animal shelter for a while, then came out with an incense burner, some sticks of incense, and a scrap of paper with words scribbled across it. “This should be sufficient to cleanse your apartment of any unwanted influences. If the incense itself doesn’t solve the problem, try chanting this spell. It would be more effective if I do it myself, but…”

“Thanks,” Keith interrupted, taking the stuff from her hands. “How much?”

She hesitated a second. “Twenty dollars.”

“Twenty?! Do I _look_ rich to you? I just spent forty bucks on cat food and litter!”

“That is how much I usually sell this incense and burner for…”

“I have ten dollars.”

She sighed. “Oh, alright. I’ll bring it down to fifteen. If the cleansing works, you owe me the remaining five. Is that reasonable enough?”

“Deal.” Keith pulled the ten dollar bill out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her, pausing to deposit the burner and incense into his backpack, and the spell paper into his jeans pocket.

After saying a curt goodbye, Keith got back onto his bike and pedaled off toward the apartment, wondering how Allura could be so trusting. He could easily just never come back to pay her the five dollars, whether her “magic” worked or not. He’d done it plenty of times before.

~

Blue seemed satisfied enough with her new cat food, gobbling it up immediately after Keith had poured it into her “bowl” (a Tupperware container), then settling down to give herself a bath. In the midst of this, though, she paused, her big yellow eyes staring at the empty space just over Keith’s shoulder.

“ _What?!_ ” Keith asked her, following her gaze to try and find what she was looking at. A spider on the wall, maybe even a cockroach. Even a floating dust mote. But no, he could see nothing.

 _Well, what the hell_ , he thought, and set up the incense burner on the coffee table, stuck it with a few sticks of the incense, then pulled a cigarette lighter out of the side pocket of his backpack and lit the ends of the sticks, the sweet-scented smoke drifting up to his nostrils.

This done, he sat back on the loveseat, looking around for some kind of effect. It was still cold in the apartment, and Blue continued staring into empty space, her leg stuck in the air from the process of cleaning it.

Sighing, Keith dug around in his jeans pocket to produce the spell paper-- after all, he’d paid for it; giving it a try didn’t hurt anything-- and unfolded it to read the words. He frowned, not recognizing it as any particular language, but tried to read it out loud, his tongue stumbling over the words.

“Neveris Sh-Shlehee? Shlehay? Um…”

He had to practice a few times while he made himself a cup of black coffee with his new coffeemaker, half of the cup drained before he was confident enough to give the whole thing a try.

He set his mug down on the counter, then looked out over the living room, taking a deep breath before he read.

“Neveris shlehie almarenth altea. Zenhoorparen maelsor vareth. Sever, Morith, nahur worlentis may.”

The words still sounded strange, but Allura had told him to chant it, so that was what he was going to do.

“Neveris shlehie almarenth--”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

The scream shook Keith to his bones, so much so that he let the paper slip from his fingers, snatching it up with his other hand before it fell to the ground. In the living room, Blue had abandoned her bath and was hunkered down close to the floor, staring up at the ceiling with her ears folded almost completely back.

As far as Keith could see, there was nothing there, but the scream had most definitely _sounded_ as if it had come from inside his apartment.

“Neveris shlehie almarenth altea. Zenhoorparen--” he tried again, but was again interrupted.

“Stop that! Stop it, _please!_ ”

The cold was getting deeper, but unless Keith’s eyes were playing tricks on him, he could swear a shape was taking form in the living room, hazily surrounding the light fixture up above.

“Show yourself, and I’ll stop,” Keith called out, rubbing his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw an entire boy, clinging to the light fixture for dear life, panic on his face.

He couldn’t be any older than Keith was, wearing a pair of blue pajamas with little cat faces decorating it, standing out nicely against his sun-warmed skin. That is, if he wasn’t see-through.

Keith blinked, but the boy was still there, hanging upside down from the ceiling. Keith felt his jaw drop, the paper slip out of his fingers.

For a long time, they just stared at each other in silence, neither really sure of what to say next.

Until finally the ghost let go of the light fixture, flipping over before drifting down to the floor.

“Wow, you’re… really pretty!” he remarked with a white-toothed smile, managing to stun Keith into an even deeper silence than he’d been in before.

Ghosts were supposed to be creepy, not charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who's read my other fic, "Wishless," will probably recognize Blue. She stays pretty much the same across my various AUs, as long as she's a domestic cat instead of a giant robotic lion lol.  
> I love the concept of Shiro in a police uniform. It was as much for my own self-indulgence as it was for the story. Either way, you're welcome.  
> Normally animal shelter employees are required to make you fill out some paperwork before they give you any pets, but... :)


	3. Paranormal Investigator

Now, how exactly would you expect Keith to respond to that? How would _anyone_ respond to a stranger jumping down from their ceiling and telling them they’re pretty, let alone a ghost?

Keith, at least, had questions. Unrelated to the ghost’s comment, which Keith quickly decided to ignore in favor of his brain actually working.

“Who are you? Are you really a ghost? Are you the reason this apartment is always cold? Can Blue see you?”

The ghost held up his hands as if to defend himself. “Hey man, calm down. One question at a time.”

He drifted a little closer to Keith, opening his mouth as if to continue speaking, but then his shape began to flicker, like a glitching video game character. He stopped short, frustration playing across his face.

“Oh, crap! Sorry, I guess I can’t stay long!”

And with that, he faded out, leaving Keith staring at the blank space the ghost had been.

In the time it took him to recover from his shock, the temperature in the apartment had risen enough for Keith to notice. He was kind of shaking, maybe even from fear. Though whether it was fear of the ghost itself, or just that there _was_ a ghost-- a fact which turned a lot of his beliefs about how the world worked completely upside-down-- that frightened him, Keith couldn’t be sure.

Once his senses returned to him, Keith jammed his hand into his jacket pocket to get his phone, to tell someone, anyone, what had happened.

His finger was already hovering over the call button under Shiro’s contact info before Keith managed to get ahold of himself.

No. He was _not_ going to bother Shiro with this. How could he prove it, anyway? The last thing the police needed to know was that Keith was seeing ghosts. They’d find it perfect evidence that he was a public menace and better off in a psych ward. No, he’d have to take care of this on his own. After all, it could be a hoax of some kind, like in Scooby Doo.

He cleared his throat and looked around, remembering his cup of coffee on the counter, now cold. He grimaced, sticking it in the microwave and leaning against the counter, looking out at the apartment.

“You never answered any of my questions,” Keith called out, crossing his arms. “I didn’t ask for a roommate, and I don’t want one. So I’d really prefer you to _not_ be here. But I _just_ paid the landlord, so I really don’t want to move out already. So are you going to make things difficult for me?”

Silence. Even Blue seemed to have calmed down after the ghost’s disappearance, and was napping peacefully on the loveseat.

The microwave beeped, and Keith retrieved his now-steaming coffee, bringing it to his lips while he continued to warily watch the apartment for any more signs of the ghost.

“I’ll exorcise you if I have to,” he lied, hoping it would get the boy to appear again.

If he was being honest, the ghost’s appearance had tugged on his heartstrings. If he were to recount the story to anyone, he would say his shock was 100% from seeing a ghost, and not at all from the fact that the ghost was a cute boy. Of course Keith wasn’t actually going to exorcise him. He wasn’t actually sure what Allura’s spell had been about to do, but judging from the ghost’s reaction, it hadn’t been pleasant.

The threat didn’t seem to work, either, the apartment as clean and innocuous as it had been when Keith had first entered it.

“Okay, fine,” Keith sighed, downing the last of the coffee and setting the mug in the sink. "You don’t want to tell me? I’ll find out on my own.”

He grabbed his backpack and door key and gave Blue an affectionate pat, receiving a soft “mrrrp” in reply, then trudged out the door.

At first, he went to the landlord’s apartment, planning to get answers to the questions he hadn’t bothered asking before, but stopped when he saw the sign on the door, reading, “urgent family business: gone for weekend.”

He grimaced, but continued walking.

Despite what the city might think, Keith wasn’t the type of person to do bad things just because he could. Technically, the ghost hadn’t really done anything _to_ him yet, so exorcising it just felt like a dick move. Though, maybe he was just softening because his brain was screaming _CUTE BOY ALERT_ every time he even thought of the ghost, no matter how many times he mentally screamed back, _HE’S DEAD, YOU IDIOT!_

Either way, it wasn’t like that time his foster “brother” had found out that he wasn’t interested in girls and decided that Keith needed “branding,” by burning his arm with a lighter. Maybe Keith had taken it a little bit further than self-defense when he’d turned the lighter on the bigger kid, then set fire to his belongings, but he stood by his belief that it was what he deserved. It had gotten Keith kicked out of the foster system for good, and only Shiro had taken his word over his “brother’s,” but he still didn’t regret it.

Amidst his musings, Keith found himself at his destination-- the public library. He walked inside, breathing with some relief as soon as he entered. There had been plenty of times he’d come there after school in order to procrastinate going back to the foster home of the time. He wasn’t a super big reader, but the internet was free, and people didn’t really _bother_ you at the library.

It was the internet he was there for. He plunked down and waited for the ancient monstrocity to load, checking the clock in the corner for the time. Ok good-- he still had around six hours before he had to go to work.

He pulled up the Google search bar and began with his address, looking for obituaries. Nothing really came up. He tried different wording, different ways of searching, but this was a big city. People died every day.

If someone had died in his apartment, it hadn’t been significant enough to make the news, or at least not any of the news he could find.

He growled in frustration, pushing the mouse aside fast enough for it to smack into the wooden divider, and fell back into his chair.

It didn’t help that he didn’t know the ghost’s _name_. It could be that the obituary was out there, they just hadn’t released the specific address to the press, or the press just hadn’t cared.

“Having issues?” asked a voice from behind him. He turned to find a teenage girl peering at him from among the shelves of books, one hand clutching a copy of something titled _Paranormality_ as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s nothing. Just… slow internet,” he lied.

“Well yeah, it’s the library. That computer’s at least a million years old.” She came a bit closer, pushing her wheat-colored ponytail over her shoulder and glancing at his computer screen. “Obituaries?”

He didn’t feel like explaining his reasons. “I’m trying to find one in a specific place, but I don’t know the person’s name or when it happened, so it’s… annoying.”

She frowned. “Mind if I try?”

He waved his hand at the computer, since he doubted he was going to get much further with this on his own.

“Do you know what time _period_ we’re looking for? It’ll at least help to knock out a few decades, even a century or two.”

“Pretty modern, I think. Definitely nothing before 1970,” Keith answered, thinking of the ghost’s cat-print pajamas.

“Okay…” she typed in a few things, and the page went white for a while as the computer processed the search results. “There you go. Knocked it down into the thousands instead of the ten-thousands, at least. Doesn’t look like anything at the specific address, though…”

“Figures,” Keith sighed. Pretty much his luck.

“What are you trying to find, anyway?” the girl asked, practically humming with curiosity. “I mean, I go through obituaries all the time, but I’ve never seen anyone else doing it.”

Keith blinked. “That’s… a weird hobby.”

“Says the guy who can’t find the dead person he’s looking for,” she shot back impatiently. “So? What’re you trying to find?”

Finally, Keith sighed, finding himself overwhelmed by the girl’s sheer force of will. “I’m trying to find out who the ghost in my apartment is,” he answered, dropping his voice into a whisper.

“A GHOST?!” the girl shouted, drawing the attention of every single person in that floor of the library. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

“Uh, yeah… but quiet down! We’re in a library!”

“Have you seen it?! Talked to it?! Is it malevolent?!”

“Yes. Sort of. No,” Keith replied rapidfire. “At least, not yet.”

She stood up straight, clutching her book even tighter to her chest, her eyes glittering with excitement as the gears in her head turned. “This is great! I’m the head of the paranormal investigator group in the city-- well, really it’s just me and my brother-- and a real ghost is… wow!” She stopped short, turning to him again. “Just let me go get some of my equipment, and I’ll meet you there in a few hours, okay?”

She dashed off, leaving Keith to stare after her as she thundered down the stairs and out of view.

He glanced back at his computer screen and realized that he’d _given_ her his address, so he couldn’t really prevent her from showing up at his door.

 _Great, just what I need_ , he thought as he resignedly signed himself out of the library’s computer, _a teenage girl inviting herself into my haunted apartment._

But, well, at this point he couldn’t exactly stop her, so he figured he’d at least better hurry to his apartment so he could keep her from breaking in.

~

He’d been at his apartment just long enough to kick off his shoes and deposit some more cat food in Blue’s bowl before the insistent knock on his door came. He sighed, checking through the peephole to confirm his guest to be the girl from the library.

For a while, he wondered if he should just ignore her, pretend that he wasn’t home. He hadn’t let Allura into his apartment, and he at least knew her _name_ , unlike the force of nature at his door.

The knocking came again, which Keith was a bit surprised by, considering the mass of technical equipment she was carrying. One of which was a video camera, while the rest was unrecognizable to him. She was red-faced and huffing for breath as if recovering from a run.

Finally, Keith reminded himself that she _had_ helped him out at the library, and she didn’t seem like she was going to give up any time soon, so he turned the doorknob, grumbling, “alright, alright, alright! I’m here!” But he stood in the doorway to purposely block her path. “You said you’d be here in a few _hours_. It’s barely been _one_.”

She shrugged, causing her collection of equipment to shift in her arms. “I always find it’s safer to round _up_ when you’re estimating arrival time.” She peeked around him, her eyes scanning the bit of apartment visible from the door. “Are you gonna let me in, or…?”

Keith finally stepped aside, waving her in. “Who are you, anyway? You’re in my house but I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, right! I’m Pidge Gunderson. An alias, of course, but it’s the only name you need to know.”

“Riiight.”

He shut the door behind her, and she headed toward the coffee table to set down her equipment, catching her toe on the loose floorboard and stumbling forward, the video camera dropping toward the ground.

“Oh crap!” she cried, but Keith was already jerking forward, managing to grab hold of the camera before it hit the ground. She was lucky he had good reflexes.

She set the other equipment down on the coffee table and accepted the camera from him, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I modified it with infrared sensors, so it would be annoying to fix if it broke.”

“You modified it yourself?” he asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

Pidge grinned. “What, like it’s hard?”

She turned back to the equipment and began sorting through it, pulling out cords that she could start hooking into electrical outlets.

As she worked, she started asking him all kinds of questions, most of which he couldn’t answer because they’d been the ones he’d been trying to ask the ghost. Some, though, were surprisingly detailed. Pidge was apparently nothing if not thorough.

“So you said you _saw_ him, right? Was he fully opaque, or somewhat transparent?”

“Uhh…”

She rolled her eyes. “Was it like a real person was standing there, or was he kind of see-through?”

“Oh, kind of see-through. Like… looking through tinted glass.”

“And his clothes?” she asked, scribbling in a small notebook.

“Pajamas with little cat faces on them,” Keith answered, sitting down on the loveseat in order to be out of her way. “It was kind of hard to be afraid of him.”

Before long, Keith found himself recounting everything in detail, from the moment he’d stepped into the apartment with the landlord, up until he left to go to the library. He tried to explain all of it, even the tone of the ghost’s voice and exact words he’d said. Pidge raised her eyebrows a bit when he talked about Shiro’s visit, and how he’d been the first to suggest it was a ghost, but surprisingly didn’t comment on it. She also seemed pretty skeptical of Allura’s mystic powers, even rolling her eyes, but aside from asking a few clarifying questions, didn’t interrupt.

When finally he was done, Pidge tapped her pen against her notebook a few times, frowning. “And you haven’t noticed _any_ electrical problems?”

“Not except the heat, no. Oh, but I don’t really turn the lights on during the day and I work at night, so maybe I just haven’t been using enough electricity to notice.”

She hummed a bit to herself, then set the notebook down and began calibrating her equipment. She picked up the video camera and turned it on, pointing it all around the apartment, narrating as she went.

“Hey, it’s me, Pidge. I’m investigating a small apartment downtown, reportedly a category one full corporeal, mostly affecting the environment by lowering the temperature. I have high hopes for this one, you guys!”

She turned the camera toward the equipment and explained what she was doing as she worked, using terms like “EMP” and “metaphysics” and “quantum mechanics” that all went way over his head.

“Oddly enough, the occupant…” she turned the camera to Keith, who waved shyly, “claims that the ghost has been primarily active during daylight, and hasn’t noticed any activity at night. Which contrasts common thought about ghosts, and most class-five encounters. However, admittedly, this _could_ be explained by the fact that most people sleep at night, and their visions can usually be explained by the effects of waking during sleep paralysis. However, the occupant _does_ work the night shift, so that explanation isn’t entirely implausible…”

“Excuse me?”

Pidge shrugged apologetically, but continued scanning the apartment with the video camera. “No evidence of unusual spots of cold on the infrared,” she continued. “And average temperature of the apartment is holding at…” she glanced at the thermometer she’d propped up against one of the machines “...77 degrees fahrenheit.”

She ran through various readings, seeming to grow more and more frustrated as she went, although thankfully didn’t seem to be tripping over the loose floorboard anymore. Eventually, she shut the camera off and plopped down on the loveseat next to him, crossing her legs and glaring down at her equipment.

“NOTHING!”

Keith frowned, looking up at the light fixture that the ghost had been clinging to when he’d first appeared. Maybe Keith _had_ driven it away when he’d recited Allura’s spell? Even though he’d never really finished it? Still…

“He _was_ here,” Keith insisted, wondering why it was so important to him. “I didn’t even believe in ghosts until all this. I’m not making it up.”

“It’s okay, dude. I believe you,” Pidge answered, leaning back into the cushions.

“You do?” Keith answered, surprised by his own surprise. He wasn’t used to people believing him, especially not complete strangers. Most people jumped straight to calling him a liar.

She sighed, pulling her legs up close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “When I was, like, six or seven, we used to live in this super old house, far away from anything. My dad said it helped him think. But after a while, my brother and I started to hear things. Stuff wouldn’t be where it was supposed to be. You know-- typical start of a horror movie.” She smiled wryly, but continued her story.

“And just like any horror movie, of course no one listened to us. It was only ever my brother and I that noticed these things. It was a little kid-- it always wanted to play with us. But if we didn’t, it would get angry. Start leaving sharp things in bad places. My parents wanted to believe that my brother and I would never do those kinds of things to each other, since we’d always gotten along, but that little _brat_ would never show up when they were around, so what were they supposed to think? They told me a few times that it was just a night terror, that if I ever woke up and couldn’t move, I shouldn’t open my eyes, because my brain was playing tricks on me. That there was nothing wrong with me-- it happened to a lot of people. But it didn’t explain that my brother and I always saw the _exact_ same thing, same annoying little boy.”

If it weren’t for the troublemaking boy being a ghost, it reminded Keith of his own childhood. “What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. Told the kid to go away too many times. I was closest to his age, so he got mad. Bad timing--my parents were away at a lecture my dad was giving.”

She paused, taking a shaky breath. “My brother was starting to have trouble seeing it anymore. Whether it’s just that the ghost didn’t like showing itself to grown-ups, or that younger kids are just better at seeing ghosts, I don’t know. But my brother did what he had to do to make it leave me alone. So he set the house on fire.”

“He WHAT?!”

Keith had set things on fire a few times himself, but he’d never be so matter-of-fact about it the way Pidge was. It kind of made him want to meet her brother himself.

“He thought it through. We were pretending to be playing a game of camp-out, so it made perfect sense that we were packing our stuff and moving it outside. And all of our parents’ important stuff. And once everything was out, he got it burning. I don’t know if it actually got rid of the ghost. Honestly, I don’t think so. But it did mean that we were definitely moving away.”

Keith stared at her open-mouthed for a while. She was much more… hardcore than he’d expected. “After all that, why would you go _looking_ for ghosts?!”

She shrugged. “No one ever believed me. Us. We even told our parents flat-out what happened. They told the police it was an accident, kids being kids, and never talked about it again. I think they really _wanted_ to believe us, but my parents are scientists. They needed proof. So we decided that one day, we were gonna find some.”

She fell silent, lost in thought and memory. Keith wondered if she told this to all of the people who got sucked into her paranormal investigations. Strangely enough, it made her seem _less_ crazy to him. He knew what it felt like to not be believed, if maybe not about something as extreme as being pestered by a ghost.

He sat up, pulling his phone out of his pocket to glance at the time. “Hey, I’m sorry you didn’t get anything. I have to start getting ready for work, but… I can call you if something happens. If you’re comfortable giving me your number.”

She shrugged and took the phone from him, quickly plugging in her number before handing it back, getting to her feet. “Send me a text with your name so I don’t block you right away.” She paused. “What _is_ your name?”

“Keith.” After he said it, he wondered if he should have given her an alias, like she had for him. But, well, too late now.

She nodded. “Okay, Keith, I’ll take the rest of my equipment, but I’ll leave the thermometer and EM reader here for a while. So you can keep track of any activity.” She gathered up her stuff again, giving him an encouraging smile. “Thanks for being willing to help.”

He shrugged and opened the door for her, wondering if she would have been so gracious to him if she’d known how many run-ins he’d had with the police. Then again, a teenage girl who would calmly burn down her own house and then go looking for ghosts could probably face down a serial killer without blinking an eye.

Keith could respect that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've experienced sleep paralysis only once-- but instead of seeing ghosts or monsters at the foot of my bed, I saw myself turning invisible. Still really frightening when you're not fully awake, but... not quite as freaky as what SOME people see during sleep paralysis. It's a real phenomenon that has affected a lot of people. 
> 
> Also, /Paranormality/ is a real book that I had to read for one of my college classes (don't ask why), which has some interesting info about various supernatural phenomena. The author has a fun voice, so it's an interesting read. I recommend it!
> 
> I know this is a Klance story and we haven't met Lance for long yet, but just wait! It's a slow burn! I have to introduce all of the characters first. :P


	4. The Name's Lance

While Keith mopped the floors in the mostly-dark of the law firm where he worked (it paid pretty well for being a janitorial position), he thought about Pidge’s story, and the little ghost boy. He wondered if all ghosts did things like that. But, then again, it was a little kid. Maybe he’d died before anyone had had the chance to teach him right from wrong. And once he was dead, there was no one who really could. After all, how exactly could you discipline a _ghost?_

It made him worry a bit about his own ghost, even though he’d looked closer to Keith’s age than childhood. If he was younger than him, it wasn’t by much. Still, although the ghost hadn’t done anything to harm Keith yet, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.

It didn’t help that he didn’t know anything about the ghost in his apartment. Not its name, nor how it died, nor why it hadn’t passed on. If he knew that the ghost had died in a gruesome murder, he’d be pretty concerned, but as it was, he didn’t even know enough to be properly frightened.

~

He returned to his apartment exhausted, kicking off his shoes and falling into bed, clothes and all. It was still warm in the room, so he didn’t feel like pulling up the covers, just allowing himself to sink into them, imagining they could rise up and swallow him whole.

What a relief that would be.

He was about to drift into unconsciousness when he heard a meow, and then a rustle and a soft thump, and then there was Blue, right in front of him, her fluffy gray tail twitching behind her.

“What?” he grumbled, reaching up to pet her. She meowed again, then aggressively began headbutting him, rubbing her face against his cheeks and purring. Finally, Keith rolled over to be able to pet her better, and upon doing this, she settled herself on his shoulder in such a way that most of her body was pressed against his head, her front paws kneading his hair as she purred, a soft, deep rumble that would be difficult to hear if she weren’t pressed up to him.

In spite of himself, Keith smiled, continuing to stroke her until his arm grew tired. At that point, he was starting to lose consciousness again, grateful for the cat’s affectionate nature.

 _Clack_.

Keith’s eyes snapped open, and he looked around the room as much as he could without moving his head. It was already daylight, and the sun was streaming through his uncurtained windows, ensuring he saw everything in his bedroom in perfect clarity.

Nothing moved.

Even Blue seemed unbothered by the noise, just purring away. Keith allowed himself to relax, to embrace unconsciousness again.

 _Clack_.

Keith ignored it, hoping it would just go away.

 _Clack_.

He groaned, gently pushing the cat off his shoulder and getting to his feet, looking around.

 _Clack_.

Now awake, he could identify the direction of the sound-- the wardrobe.

Rubbing his eyes and moving closer, he had to look again at what he was seeing.

The pen he’d dropped there after signing the receipt for his pizza delivery was hovering in the air, tip down. It remained that way for a few seconds, shaking a bit, and then dropped, clattering onto the top of the dresser, producing the sound he’d been hearing.

“Could you do something a little less _noisy?"_  he grumbled. Out of bed, he was shivering again, and wondering if it was too early to call Pidge.

The pen moved a tad, then stopped, and Keith exhaled, going back to the bed. It seemed as if the ghost hadn’t disappeared, after all.

He crawled back into bed, under the covers this time, although Blue was no longer comfortable enough to purr in his ear.

And then the sound started coming from the living room.

Keith groaned and grabbed the second pillow, shoving it over his head, hoping it would either drown out the sound or suffocate him. Either one was fine.

~

Red-eyed from lack of sleep, Keith picked up the spell paper Allura had given him and considered it, sincerely tempted this time.

He didn’t do it, though, instead sticking it up to the fridge with the only magnet he owned: a police department promo.

To be honest, he didn’t really know what to do with the time he wasn’t asleep or at work. He was used to having school to go to, but that was over. With his barely-graduated high school record, no decent college was going to take him. And besides, it was too many _people_ to try to get along with. It was the whole reason he’d taken a night shift job where he didn’t have to talk to anyone: less chances for anything to go wrong. But still, he didn’t really have any hobbies to fill the time.

He decided to take a shower while he thought about what to do with his day, despite how sleep-deprived he was. The water was nice and hot, a relief from the bitter cold filling the apartment ever since the sun had come up. He stayed in there for a long time, letting the steaming-hot water wash away all of his thoughts, even though he knew he was paying for the heat himself. He didn’t step out until he heard his phone ringing in the other room.

He turned off the water and quickly toweled off, wrapping the towel around his waist and wandering out just in time for the ringing to stop.

He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and wiped his hands on the towel, then checked the phone to see the notification of one missed call from Shiro.

He quickly called back, wandering to the bathroom as he listened to the phone ring.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro answered, “did I call at a bad time?”

“Not really. I was just in the shower.”

“Oh, well, I was just calling to check in. How’s the new apartment? Everything okay? Meet any neighbors?”

Keith hesitated, wondering if the ghost counted as a “neighbor.” Either way, he decided not to mention it.

“No, not yet. I did meet a woman on my way to work that seemed nice. She gave me a cat.”

“A woman?”

“She _gave_ me a cat, and it’s the fact that she’s a woman that surprises you?”

“Well, yeah, kind of,” he answered, a bit sheepishly, then changed the subject. “Are you sure you can take care of a cat?”

“I think she’s taking care of _me,_ honestly.”

“That’s great!” Shiro replied, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. “Might calm down some of that built-up rage.”

“You make me sound like the Hulk,” Keith yawned, grabbing a comb to pull through his thick black hair.

“Well, you kind of act like it sometimes. Like a… miniature Hulk.”

“Wow, thanks,” Keith replied sarcastically.

“Anyway, anything else?”

“I met this crazy girl at the library. Says she’s the head of the local paranormal investigation group.”

Shiro was quiet for a moment. “O...kay? Another girl? Keith, I thought you were--”

“--Shut up, Shiro, it’s just how it worked out. She’s still in high school, I’m pretty sure. But she’s actually not that bad. Says a lot of things I don’t really understand, but I don’t mind.”

“Well, sounds like you’re settling in just fine. Guess I didn’t need to be worried.” He chuckled a little. “But you really haven’t had any problems with neighbors? Fighting couples? Noisy sex?”

“Gross. No. Well…” he grimaced, thinking of the levitating pen. “There is _one_ who’s really noisy, though I only ever saw him once.”

“Oh, so there _is_ a him?”

“Sort of. I think he’s just trying to get on my nerves. I don’t even know who he is.

He looked up into the mirror, still all steamed up from the hot shower, and his heart stopped cold.

Letters were appearing in the condensation, as if being drawn by an invisible hand.

“T-H-E  N-A-M-E-S  L-A-N-C-E.”

Keith felt the phone slip out of his grip and crash onto the tile floor as he stared at the words in the mirror.

“Keith? Hello?” Shiro’s voice called, barely audible from his phone’s tiny speaker on the floor so far below.

Keith looked around wildly, seeing no sign of the ghost, although the letters were beginning to drip.

He leaned over to pick up his phone, never taking his eyes off of the mirror.

“Sorry, I… dropped my phone. Hand was still a little wet from the shower.”

“Oh, well, don’t let me keep you. Try and make friends, okay? Even with the noisy one.”

“I guess,” Keith answered. _Not like I have a choice._

“Talk to you soon,” Shiro answered, then ended the call.

Keith set his phone down on the back of the toilet, looking around cautiously.

“Lance, huh?” he called out, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Why didn’t you show up when Pidge was here? She was really disappointed.”

More letters on the mirror:

“T-O-O  S-C-A-R-Y.”

“She’s fifteen years old and weighs like eighty pounds. How is she scary?”

But this time, Lance had no answer.

~

Day two of ghostly activity:

Lance’s daytime noise had upgraded from picking up and dropping pencils and pens to actually opening and closing drawers. Keith was amazed by how unbothered Blue was by this. She was still staring into empty space and meowing pretty often, but didn’t seem the least bit troubled by the ghost’s actual activity.

While Keith was trying to sleep.

~

Day three:

After investing in a pair of earplugs, Keith actually got a good two hours of sleep, before Lance started messing with the window blinds, sending waves of light across his face.

Keith was not happy.

After resigning himself to another night without proper rest, Keith got up and made himself a cup of coffee, then angrily dumped food in Blue’s bowl, grabbed his bike and made his way outside, stumbling over the loose floorboard in the process. Again.

He spent as much time away as he possibly could, unwilling to return during the times that Lance was most active. He explored the neighborhood, pausing by Allura’s animal shelter, but she wasn’t there, it apparently being her day off, since she worked weekends. Instead, he bought a halter collar for Blue, since she seemed well-behaved enough to not need a full cat carrier anyway. Plus, it was cheaper.

He also decided to sign up at the local gym, to give him something to do during the day besides listen to the ghost bang around. Keeping himself active had helped him tolerate his day-to-day life before, so he figured it would be better to do so now that he was on his own. Although he took care to go during times when the fewest number of people were there, mostly working with the punching bag. He could hear Shiro in his head, telling him it was a good way to vent frustration, and felt a bit ridiculous, but he was right. It cleared his head.

Still, it wasn’t exactly like it was gonna make the ghost leave him alone while he was trying to sleep.

~

Day four:

Lance had had a change of heart, having prepared a cup of coffee for Keith before he got up, sitting on the counter in plain sight, still steaming hot. It was a bizarre, sudden change, making him wonder if the ghost was trying to get rid of him or _not_.

Thinking of Pidge’s story, he warily peered into the cup for evidence of sharp things, even pulled out a spoon and gave the coffee a stir, but found nothing.

“Thanks, I guess,” he called out, taking a sip.

It was _good_. How could it be so much better than what he made, when the ghost was using the same coffee and same machine?

 _That_ was the real supernatural phenomenon.

~

Day five:

The second cup of coffee on the counter did not make up for Lance’s daytime activities, which now included opening and closing doors and drawers of the wardrobe. All of which were _extremely_ noisy, to the point that not even Keith’s earplugs could keep it all out.

Nor did the post-it note with “for Keith” scrawled on it in shaky handwriting. Because _of course_ it was for Keith. Who else was going to drink it? The cat? She’d better not. He was pretty sure he’d heard somewhere that caffeine was super bad for cats.

He drank it angrily, following Blue’s gaze to where he supposed the ghost was, hovering just next to the window. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is. If you don’t like me living here, you’ve either got to come out and tell me or just kill me, because I’m _really_ reconsidering exorcising you.”

Silence.

“Just be noisy at _night!_ When ghosts are _supposed_ to be active! Because I’m at work anyway. I couldn’t care less what you do while I’m gone. Whatever you’re trying to do, let me _sleep!_ ”

He broke down and called Pidge as he stomped out of his apartment with his bike, almost running into the big guy with the flowers at the base of the steps.

“Woah, sorry man!” he exclaimed, moving out of Keith’s way and returning to arranging the flowers in the vase.

Pidge picked up just then, so Keith turned his attention away. He quickly explained the ghost’s activity, and how now at least he knew his first name.

“I think I’ll go to the library and look it up again, now that I’ve got more info, but not until I get some sleep.”

“Do you think he’s trying to communicate with you?” Pidge asked, her voice tinny through his cheap phone’s speaker.

“If that’s what he’s doing, the notes and mirror-writing work way better than the banging and clanging,” he answered sourly.

Pidge laughed a little. “And the EM reader?”

“It spikes a little when he’s active, but not really that much.”

“Well, figure out a way to get some sleep, and I’ll drop by again. Let me know when that happens.”

“Sure. Bye.” He hung up, wondering what he should do next. Clearly, Lance wasn’t listening to his requests, but if Keith didn’t get some sleep soon, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly, and he was starting to have trouble staying awake at work.

Sighing, he dialed the phone again, pressing it to his ear as he made his way up the gym’s steps.

“Hey, Shiro, can I crash at your place after work? I, uh… want to introduce Blue to other cats, see how she does. Since I know Blackie’s pretty chill… yeah great, thanks. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

~

He must’ve slept twelve hours straight.

Even though it was just on Shiro’s couch, right on the ground floor up close to the road, he got the best sleep he’d had all week. Finally, as the sun was highest in the sky, he jolted awake, suddenly realizing that it was time for work. When he fully woke up, though, he realized that it was a weekend.

Still, he was awake now, and realizing this, both cats had decided it was time to pester him. Blackie, having known him longest, and easily being the dominant of the two, jumped up first, releasing a deep, rumbling meow and settling herself down on top of Keith’s ribcage, crushing the air out of his lungs.

“Blackie… can’t… breathe…” he gasped, sitting up and pushing the massive black cat onto his lap. She seemed a bit annoyed by this, getting her revenge by massaging his lap with her gigantic claws.

Blackie must’ve been half Norwegian forest cat, half mountain lion, because she was HUGE. Not fat, but _big_. Blue was already a fairly decent-sized cat (part maine coon? Maybe?), but Blackie was still at least twice her size, although about a third of that was fur. It was a good thing Blackie had a big heart to match, because otherwise, Keith was pretty sure she could shred anything that mildly irritated her. He’d seen what she’d done to the blocks of wood Shiro had designated as her scratch posts. It had to be wood, because cardboard lasted less than a day.

Shiro had helped rescue her from the bottom of a city drain, where she’d been found in pretty bad shape, and dutifully cared for her until the only reminder of her past situation was a scar over the bridge of her nose that endearingly matched Shiro’s. Shiro had adopted her, and in return, she revealed herself to be the most affectionate cat ever.

She settled down in Keith’s lap, a fact that Blue seemed to be annoyed by, but not overwhelmingly so. To be honest, Keith had really brought her because he felt bad leaving her alone with the ghost, especially if he was going to be gone long enough to miss her feeding time. She and Blackie didn’t seem to be fighting, which was a relief, but they weren’t particularly affectionate, either. Pretty much, Blackie stayed on one side of the room, and Blue stayed on the other.

Shiro strolled into the room, a towel over his shoulder, whistling cheerfully, and Blackie immediately jumped off Keith’s lap to go rub against Shiro’s leg.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake! You slept so long, I wondered if I should wake you up, but couldn’t make myself do it.” He reached down and scooped Blackie up like she was a kitten, stroking her poofy fur smooth as he frowned down at Keith. “Not sleeping well?”

“Not really,” Keith yawned as Blue jumped into his lap and hunkered down protectively. “Noisy neighbor.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“He’s not… exactly easy to get ahold of.”

“Okay… well, I think a little bit of interpersonal conflict might be good for you. Figure out how to settle a problem _without_ hurting anyone. Including yourself.”

“Do my best,” Keith answered flatly.

“Oh yeah, and I heard you picked up boxing at the gym.” He set Blackie down and brushed her fur off his gray tank top.

Keith wasn’t surprised that Shiro knew. He was the most popular cop in the precinct, probably owing to the fact that he was built like an underwear model, yet appeared completely unaware of that fact. That, plus his generally friendly and understanding disposition meant that he was one of the few cops the mostly-minority community trusted. So yeah, he knew people.

“It’s just something to do,” he replied as Shiro went into the kitchen and began pouring cereal and milk into bowls. He came back shortly, dutifully followed by Blackie.

“Well, it’s good to stay in shape. That means you’ve got to eat. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been skipping meals anymore.”

Keith took the bowl of cereal he was offered a bit guiltily. He’d forgotten to eat dinner three times in the past five days.

“Thanks, Shiro.” He started eating, wondering if he should mention the ghost. Instead, they started talking about their cats, and how Blue had settled right in at Keith’s apartment, not shy at all. Even Blackie had hidden under the furniture (or, well, tried to) for a week after Shiro had brought her home, but Blue already acted like she owned the place.

Shiro didn’t seem as surprised as Keith was, though. “She must just be a really friendly cat. I’m surprised no one adopted her earlier.”

Keith was about to reply, but was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

He blinked in surprise, wondering why work would be texting him on his day off.

It wasn’t work-- it was Pidge.

_“You want to come ghost-hunting with us?”_

“What is it?” Shiro asked.

“It’s one of my new friends. Wants to… hang out.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you! Go have fun!”

Keith winced. As grateful as he was for Pidge’s curiosity, he had enough on his plate with just the _one_ ghost. He didn’t really want to go find another one.

But Shiro looked genuinely happy at the idea of Keith making friends, so he felt bad rejecting her outright. “Uh, yeah, I guess I will,” he answered. “I’ll grab Blue and get out of your hair.”

He finished his cereal, then hooked Blue up to her walking harness and made his way out, even as he texted Pidge, _“No thanks, I’m busy.”_

~

Blue dashed inside as soon as Keith opened his apartment door, so suddenly that she jerked her leash out of Keith’s grip. Surprised, Keith watched her go, straight to the boy sitting sullenly in the middle of the living room floor.

Keith let the door slam behind him. “YOU.”

Lance looked up in surprise, his half-transparent hand outstretched to Blue. “You can see me?”

“Of course I can.”

Lance tried scratching Blue’s chin, but pouted when his hand went right through her. “You were gone so long, I got bored.”

“Well _yeah_. I had to sleep somewhere else, since _you_ won’t let me.”

Lance looked down at his crossed legs. “Sorry. I guess I got a little excited when you moved in. No one’s stayed in this apartment for more than a couple days in, like… three years.”

“So you keep me awake, dropping pens and slamming cupboards?!”

“It was the only way I could think of to get your attention!” Lance shouted back. “It’s hard to keep myself visible, or even hearable.”

“Audible?”

“Whatever. It’s tough to touch or move things, too, so I was trying to practice.” He looked up at Keith through his eyelashes, still looking sullen.

Keith’s heart skipped a beat, but he ignored it and sat on the floor next to Lance, petting the cat in his place. “And you can’t practice at _night_?”

Lance shrugged. “I’m not always really _here_ ,” he explained, waving his fingers dramatically. “And being awake at night is still weird to me.”

“What do you mean, ‘not always here’? Like in the apartment?”

“Uh… kind of? I don’t really know. I don’t think I can actually _leave_ the apartment, but sometimes I’m just kind of floating in nothing, and then I find myself back here, sitting on top of that dresser.” He paused. “Just a part of being dead.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but Lance’s shape was flickering out again.

“I just wanted to talk to somebody,” he commented before fading out completely, leaving Keith alone in the empty apartment.

Keith frowned, gazing at the spot Lance had disappeared. “How did you die, anyway?”

No answer.

Keith sighed. “Well, I’d honestly rather be able to see you than not, so I don’t feel like I’m talking to myself. I kind of know a spirit medium I can talk to, maybe help you stay visible. But you’ve _got_ to stop keeping me awake.”

In the dust atop the coffee table, letters were appearing:

“T-H-A-N-K-S.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically, male cats are much larger than females, so Blackie's size is especially impressive, lol. As usual, Blue's personality is based mostly on my cat, attention-whore that he is. "But where's Red?!" you may ask. "He's Keith's Lion, but we haven't met him! Why does Keith have Blue?!"  
> That, my dear, is for me to know, and you to eventually find out. ;)


	5. Reach Out

Allura was all set up in her usual spot when Keith made his way back from work, after a blissful Sunday of not being pestered by Lance. Her stand had the usual assortment of spells and crystals, but this time she was not waiting idly. Some customers stood across from her, what looked like a pair of middle-aged women dressed up for the night. One of them had her arm outstretched to Allura, who was staring at her palm intensely.

Keith stopped, watching Allura curiously. He wasn’t fully convinced of her magic powers just yet, but considering that her spell _had_ actually had an effect on Lance, he wasn’t convinced she was powerless, either. So how exactly she managed it, he wanted to find out.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “You are a well-loved woman, even admired. But I sense that you doubt yourself, and as a result, you also believe that others doubt you. Your path ahead will become difficult unless you learn to trust others.” She scrunched up her eyes, frowning. “There is one person in particular who has made things difficult for you. You find it difficult to respect them. However, if you reach out to them, you will find that they can become your greatest ally. If you can trust the person you trust the least, you will have the faith in yourself you need to move forward.”

Her eyes blinked open, and she smiled at the customer. “I wish you luck.”

The woman scowled, pulling her hand out of Allura’s grasp. “Anyone could have made up that description. As I suspected.” She grabbed her companion by the shoulder, pushing her away. “I told you, Karen, it’s just cold reading; telling you what you want to hear.”

Allura watched them go, forcing a smile until they were out of sight, then sighed, her shoulders slumping. When she looked up, she noticed Keith standing there, and brightened.

“Oh, Keith, it’s you. How is Blue settling in?”

“She’s definitely an affectionate cat. But… I’m here about the ghost.”

“Oh?” she asked, straightening and brushing some of her silver-blonde hair out of her face. Not surprising that she’d brighten at someone asking her about ghosts, since her previous customer had obviously not believed in her powers. “What is it?”

Keith reached in his jeans pocket and produced a five-dollar bill, holding it out to her. “Here. It’s the five I owe you.”

She took it gingerly, confusion playing across her face, before the realization hit her and she looked up at him, surprised. “Wait, you mean it worked? There really _was_ a ghost in your apartment?”

“Is.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is. There really _is_ a ghost in my apartment. He’s still there.”

She frowned down at the five-dollar bill. “Oh, so my spell didn’t work…”

“No, no no no, I just didn’t finish it. I don’t want to get rid of him. Not just yet. Actually, I wanted to ask you if you can do the opposite. He has a hard time staying visible, so I can’t ask him very many questions. Can you give me a charm, or a spell or something so he can be a bit stronger?”

She blinked. “You don’t want to rid yourself of the evil spirit?”

“I don’t think he’s evil. Just… annoying.” _And cute._

“I see… well, if you’re certain…”

She turned to her stand, tapping her finger against the table as she surveyed its contents. Finally, she reached out and pulled a necklace from the display, a small, lumpy green crystal charm dangling from the chain.

“Without actually going to your apartment and encountering the ghost myself, I cannot make him stronger. But what I _can_ do is help to open _your_ third eye. I will warn you-- it makes you more perceptive to all supernatural phenomena, not just your specific ghost. Fortunately, without my other powers, they should leave you alone unless you let on that you can see them. Also, it only means that _you_ will be able to see him. If you try to prove his existence to anyone else, I _will_ need to be present as a full medium. So… are you sure?”

Keith shrugged. “Why not?”

She frowned, but lifted the necklace up to his face, pressing the crystal to his forehead and closing her eyes. She was silent for a moment, then her eyes blinked open, and she looked at him in surprise.

“What? What is it?” he asked, feeling a bit awkward standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a woman pressing a crystal to his forehead.

“Your third eye is already more open than that of most others… it took me by surprise. Well, it simply means that opening it fully shouldn’t require too much effort.”

She closed her eyes again, concentrating. Keith still felt a little ridiculous. He really _hoped_ she wasn’t a fake, because otherwise this would be really embarrassing.

“Alright, Keith, I will need you to close your eyes and concentrate.”

He did as asked. “Now what?”

“What do you see?”

“Uh… darkness? A bit of the streetlights through my eyelids?”

“Alright, good. Now, without opening your eyes, imagine shapes appearing in that darkness. Your eyes are closed, but you see. I am here, in front of you. You see my face, my hair, my earrings.”

He swallowed, reminding himself to take this seriously. It wasn’t exactly easy: he could hear other people walk by, probably wondering what the witch-lady was doing to his head. He kept getting distracted by their sounds, their voices, and then remember that he was supposed to be focusing on what he was seeing. Or, well, what he was supposed to be seeing.

He scrunched his eyes up, focusing on the darkness. _Look for shapes in the darkness. Imagine you can see Allura standing in front of you_.

On his forehead, the crystal began to grow warm, then hot, as if searing its way into his skin. He winced, then felt Allura’s hand on his shoulder.

“The pain is only in your mind adjusting. I assure you, there is no physical damage to your body,” she said.

 _Comforting_ , he thought, focusing again on the darkness. Shapes… shapes in the darkness. He could see them. Faint outlines he couldn’t quite describe, moving just in the corners of his eyelids. He tried to watch them, to bring them into focus, but they escaped, like wisps of smoke around a grasping hand.

He could see Allura. Or, well, her outline. She was glowing, as if she was carved out of light blue and violet light, the other shapes all swirling around her, her left arm outstretched toward him.

“I see you,” he said, a small bit of awe in his voice.

“Then it’s done.” Her glowing shape retracted her arm, and immediately the image dimmed. “You may open your eyes.”

When he did, Keith had a moment of vertigo, like eyes adjusting after coming off a merry-go-round. All of the colors of the city street swirled around him, dizzying. He blinked a few times, and he found everything back to normal.

Allura was smiling at him, if a bit worried. “I won’t know if it worked until you encounter a full spirit, but I do believe it’s done. That’ll be ten dollars.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but produced the money. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected you’d do this for free.”

“I have to make a living, too, Keith.”

“Hey… what is that crystal you’re using?”

She looked down at the green crystal in her hand. “Oh, this? This is moldovite. It’s quite potent in regards to the third eye, and somewhat difficult to find.”

He thought about the way Allura’s image had faded as soon as she’d taken her hand away, and the crystal with it. “Is it for sale?”

“It is, but… it is not inexpensive, I warn you. This is jewelry-grade, and as I mentioned, difficult to obtain.”

He was pretty turned off by that. He still had rent to pay and lots of basic amenities to buy, so he wasn’t excited about any expensive purchases.

But to his surprise, Allura unhooked the necklace and swung it around his neck, clasping it in the back. He felt the crystal settle at his collarbones, and stared pointedly at her.

She shrugged. “When I touched this stone to your forehead, I instantly felt as if it will be a part of a great change in your life. That it belongs with you.”

“Allura, are you sure? What if I never give it back?”

“You will,” she answered, sounding confident. “I can’t see the future, really, only sense it. And I sense that you are at the start of a great journey, which will bring together many people, and take you to places far away from any you’ve ever imagined. And once you reach your destination, you will give it back to me.”

“How will I know?”

She shook her head. “I do not know. But you will.”

She patted him on the shoulder and pocketed her ten dollars. “Now go, Keith. And _please_ , let me meet your ghost. I am infinitely curious.”

~

The first things Keith saw upon returning to his apartment were the words “WASH ME” written in the dust on the living room table.

He let the door swing closed, annoyed. “ _Lance!”_

The ghost drifted out of the bedroom, grinning. “Hey, you’re back!”

“And you left me a present.”

Lance looked over at the living room table. “Oh, yeah, everything’s a mess. You’ve been here over a week and haven’t cleaned _anything._ The place has been empty for three years, my dude. The least you could do is dust.”

Keith glared at him, taking his backpack off and chucking it on the loveseat, right through Lance. “Do it yourself if it bothers you so much.”

Lance put his hands on his hips, drifting a little higher. “Hey, that’s not very nice. Do you know how violating it is to have people throw things through you?”

“How _does_ it feel?” Keith asked, curious.

Lance thought for a moment. “Kinda… tingly. But also kinda like being stabbed. Without that nasty side effect.”

“You know what it feels like to be stabbed?”

“Only with a pencil in sixth grade. Anyway, do you ever feel like actually _living_ in here? You haven’t even unpacked anything,” he commented, giving one of Keith’s suitcases a kick.

“Sure,” Keith answered, yawning. “Now I’m going to bed.”

“What? But then what am _I_ going to do?!”

“Play with the cat,” Keith answered, walking to the bedroom and closing the door behind him. Not that it would keep Lance out, but he hoped it at least set a clear boundary.

~

He woke up to Lance making coffee in the kitchen, singing loudly to himself.

“IIIII NEVER WANNA HEAR YOU SAY… I WANT IT THAT WAY!”

“Lance… Backstreet Boys? Really?”

Lance turned, twiddling the teaspoon between his fingers. “What? You think just because I’m dead I’m gonna sing opera or something? Backstreet’s a classic, man.”

“...you’re being loud.”

“Oh shut up and drink your coffee. I know you wake up every afternoon at 3pm.” He picked up the coffee mug, holding it out to Keith. “And hurry up; I can’t hold this thing for too long.”

Keith grabbed the mug out of his hands, just as Blue began to rub against his leg and meow. “Why are you making me coffee?”

Lance shrugged. “Gives me something to do. I like coffee. I used to love the smell.”

“Used to?”

“Dude, I don’t have a body. No body, no actual nose, no sense of smell.”

“Oh. That… sucks.”

“You’re telling me.”

He jumped up to the counter, sitting on it and looking down at Keith. “So do you ever plan on cleaning? Unpacking?”

“Maybe later.”

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m going to the gym.”

“Ohh, a tough guy, huh? You got a friend there?”

“Not… really.”

Lance frowned. “Do you have… _any_ friends? Besides the parole officer?”

Keith didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to the living room and sat down on the loveseat, facing away from the ghost.

It didn’t last long. Lance was right next to him in seconds, peering at him. “Why go through the trouble to see me, only to ignore me? Keith? Keeeeeith, come on, man, talk to me.”

“I’m gonna take Blue for a walk,” he announced, downing the still-hot coffee and setting the mug on the counter, grabbing Blue’s halter and leash down from the hook they hung from.

“Oh, take her to the park two blocks away. It’s nice. Lots of trees. Used to be a stand run by a guy who made the best churros in the city… I dunno if he’s still there, though. But you should get some breakfast while you’re out! You shouldn’t just have coffee for breakfast.”

Keith ignored him, hooking Blue up to the halter and opening the door.

“Hey, I’m serious, man, you need to eat something. Keith!”

The door shut behind him.

~

The next few days continued on in pretty much the same vein. Lance apparently knew the words to a wide variety of N’SYNC, Beyonce, Shakira, and Britney Spears songs, and would spend a great deal of time floating around the apartment and singing them at the top of his lungs. Well, if he’d _had_ lungs.

Thankfully, he no longer did it while Keith was sleeping, but apparently he’d decided that as soon as Keith was awake, it was free game.

“Why are you so determined not to clean anything? You even took your clothes to the laundromat yesterday, and then just dumped them back in your suitcase. The apartment is _fully_ furnished, you know. And quite tastefully, if I do say so myself.”

“In the wardrobe _you_ haunt?”

“Hey, I don’t live _in_ the wardrobe. I’m not Moaning Myrtle, dude. I just… sit there a lot.”

“Right.”

“But come on, the bags are in the way! You wouldn’t have to step around them all the time if you just unpacked them. AND, Blue’s a fluffy cat. She sheds. You’re gonna start getting fur in your coffee if you don’t clean soon.”

He paused, drifting down to Keith’s eye level. “Seriously, you take better care of the cat than you do yourself.”

“Maybe I do.”

~

The final straw was when he came back from work to see Lance sitting next to one of his suitcases, its top unzipped, and the clothes that were supposed to be inside of it, folded neatly in piles on the floor in front of him.

“What are you doing?!” Keith shouted, loudly and sharp enough to startle Blue from her perch atop the backrest of the loveseat.

Lance jumped, the sweatshirt he’d been about to fold falling right through his hands. “I’m folding your clothes, what does it look like?”

“I never gave you permission to go through my stuff!”

Lance stood up, putting his hands on his hips and meeting Keith glare for glare. “I’m just trying to _help_. You’re clearly depressed, and if you’re not gonna reach out, then I’m gonna do it myself.”

“I am not _depressed._ ”

“Oh really?” Lance raised his arms in the air, bringing down the temperature of the entire apartment, so cold that Keith was gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering. “Look at this place! You don’t buy more than the bare minimum of food. You drink black coffee for breakfast, have no hobbies, never clean, and you keep your entire life in a pair of bags! You don’t have any social media because you don’t have any friends, and you _don’t even listen to Beyonce!_ ”

Keith glared at Lance in silence, unable to back down but too surprised by the ghost’s outburst to know what to say in return.

“And before you say that Shiro’s your friend, he’s like six years older than you. He doesn’t count,” Lance added, drifting closer to him. “Keith, buddy, you can’t live like this. It’s like… like you’re not even _bothering_ to live. And I can’t let you think like that.”

His words sliced right through Keith’s heart, almost enough to knock him off his feet. He’d only met this ghost a few weeks ago, how could he have seen through Keith so clearly? Which one of them was supposed to be transparent?!

“You don’t know me,” Keith managed to get out, but his voice was weak, even to his own ears. “Stay out of my stuff.”

“I would if you’d _let_ me!” Lance shouted, but immediately softened. “Just let me help. It gives me something to do, anyway. I won’t go through anything private. I won’t even touch your underwear if you don’t want me to. Partially because, you know, it’s kinda weird.”

Keith fought back the urge to laugh, still too angry to admit to Lance that he was funny. “I don’t know how to stay in one place, okay?! Last time I thought things were going okay, that I could unpack everything, I…” He broke off, realizing what he was saying. Things he’d known for a long time, but had never admitted to himself, let alone anyone else. “I’m only staying here because it’s cheap and close to my job. I don’t _need_ your help.”

He reached up and grabbed the crystal, yanking hard. The clasp in the back snapped open, and almost immediately, Lance began to fade in front of his eyes.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?! Keith?!”

He dropped the necklace on the floor, his eyes burning, then turned and stomped out the door, his head full of thoughts and memories he’d much rather keep locked away.

~

Not really looking where he was going as he walked somewhere, anywhere, far from Lance, from the apartment, and the agonizing realization that his past haunted him far more than the ghost did, inevitably brought Keith to the foot of the library, the familiar red brick building looming over him.

 _I told Pidge I was going to research at the library as soon as I got some sleep,_ he remembered, looking again up at the building. _But I never did._

His feet moved of their own volition, carrying him up the stairs and into the doors. It was early in the morning-- they’d just opened, and the building was empty of just about anyone except the librarians. It was quiet, almost uncomfortably so. When had silence become bothersome to him?

He sat down at the computer, turning it on and waiting as it booted up, staring vacantly at the screen, remembering things he didn’t want to remember. Staring at his father’s grave, tears running down his face. Sitting at the police station as people debated about which one of the people who didn’t want to take him in should take him in. A big boy with blue eyes and blonde curls sneering down at him, mocking him for being unwanted. His teacher admonishing him for not getting his permission slip signed, not finishing his assignment, because if he was having trouble he should ask his parents. The fights, first defending himself, and then defending some other kid, because he hated to see someone treated the way he was. Packing his bags, Shiro apologizing to the teacher, his “parents.” And packing his bags, still smelling the smoke of the fire he had set in order to protect himself. And packing his bags. And packing his bags.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if it could block the flood.

The computer hummed, finally snapping Keith out of his thoughts. He took a shaky breath, reaching for the mouse and accessing the internet. While it loaded, he remembered to pull out his phone, sending Pidge a quick text. _“At library now. Finding out who he is.”_

He wondered if she was even awake, considering he was pretty sure she still attended school on top of her nighttime ghost-hunting. But he’d already received a response by the time the search engine had appeared on his computer screen. It was just a thumbs-up symbol.

 _Lance,_  he thought, as he typed the name into the computer, remembering to narrow down the search parameters the way Pidge had.

With it narrowed down enough, he found a few results, but they conflicted.

Lance Mcclain.

Lance Alvarez.

Lance Mcclain.

Lance Alvarez.

He frowned, clicking the first link, which matched his criteria almost perfectly, reading the brief police notice.

_Lance Mcclain, 17, found dead by a neighbor in his apartment at…_

That was Keith’s address, alright.

_Assumed to be an accident._

That was all. A full two sentences. Not even complete sentences. The report gave no details of the death, or the person himself, other than the name and date discovered. Three years ago, buried among a list of other deaths that had happened that week.

Frustrated, he clicked the back button, immediately choosing the second article, this one for a “Lance Alvarez.”

It was the complete opposite.

This one was a full obituary, featuring a black-and-white photograph headshot of a boy who certainly looked like the ghost in Keith’s apartment, beaming at the camera with a set of perfectly white teeth. Unlike the first article, it was several paragraphs long, including quotes at the end from friends and loved ones. Keith absorbed every word, his curiosity pulling him in with alarming strength.

_Lance Alvarez, 17, was found dead in his recently-rented apartment early Sunday. He was born July 28th, 1998, youngest son to Cuban immigrants Clarita and Roberto Alvarez. He graduated high school one semester early with commendations for community service and leadership, and was preparing to attend college at the University of Chicago._

_His relatives and friends identified Lance as a “loving person,” spending a great deal of time and effort on helping others, even if he didn’t know them well. He was well known for selfless efforts, including establishing a community garden which his family plans to name in his honor. He enjoyed helping people, especially other youth in his local Hispanic community._

_“I think I would have gotten in a lot of trouble if it weren’t for Lance,” Rosita Gonzalez, 15, comments. “When I first got to the city, I had trouble with English and didn’t understand a lot of what went on in school. He kind of took me under his wing, even stood up to the teachers for me sometimes. I think a lot of people can say that.”_

_Lance is survived by both parents; brothers Marco and Luis; sister Veronica, and several nieces and nephews._

There was more to the article, but Keith was having trouble reading it. His vision was swimming, forcing him to look away from the computer screen.

 _You’re clearly depressed, and if you’re not gonna reach out, then I’m gonna do it myself,_ Lance had said. If the obituary was right, then this wasn’t the first time he’d done so. _You can’t live like this. It’s like… like you’re not even bothering to live. And I can’t let you think like that._

He tightened his grip on the mouse, his throat feeling thick. He had never had a boy like Lance in his life. Someone who _cared_ that much. He’d had Shiro, sure, but Lance was right-- Shiro wasn’t his friend. More like… a brother. A brother who couldn’t be with him 24/7.

Still, neither entry told him how Lance had died, other than that it was an “accident.” He skimmed through the other articles, finding them even less relevant, and finally gave up, signing out of the computer. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that he hadn’t gone to sleep after getting home. He was tired. That's why his vision was blurring.

~

He reached the apartment complex at the same time as the landlord, who was just stepping out of an ancient-looking pickup truck when Keith reached him.

“Oh, there you are, Kogane. How are things in the apartment? Hope the cold isn’t too much of a bother?” he quipped, his cheer sounding strangely forced.

“...no. No, it’s not a problem,” Keith replied, his voice shaking. “Um, I have a question, I never asked when you were showing me the apartment.”

The landlord paused, leaning against the side of his truck. “Yes?”

“Well, I…” to be honest, Keith had no idea how to ask the question. “Did someone ever… well…”

The landlord sighed. “You wanna know if anyone ever died in that apartment, right?”

Keith breathed in relief. “Yeah.”

The landlord looked up at Keith’s door, his eyes thoughtful. “I suppose I’m not legally required to tell you, but… yes. Nice boy, by what the neighbors will tell you. But that’s about all I can say,” he replied, frowning. “I wasn’t the landlord here when it happened. My papa was. I took over when he started suffering from dementia. I don’t know how much he remembers of anything, least of all his tenants. So I’m sorry, but that’s about all I know about it. Don’t know how he died, just that it happened.”

Keith followed his gaze, unsatisfied by the answer. Not that there was much the landlord could do about it, but…

He looked down, spotting the little vase with the tiny blue flowers, another question crossing his mind. “Hey, do you know the big guy who brings flowers every week? Does he work for you?”

The landlord shook his head. “Nah, him? I think he’s that boy’s friend or something. Comes in once every week, like clockwork, with fresh flowers. Never causes any trouble, just fixes the flowers and leaves. Sometimes even helps out the neighbors fix stuff if he’s got time. I hear he’s pretty good with his hands.” He shrugged. “Is that all?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I was… just curious. I’ll have the rent for next month on time.”

“No problem. Just let me know if you find anything wrong, alright? If living in a place somebody died creeps you out too much, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to move out.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Keith replied, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. “See you later.”

He headed back to the apartment, taking special note of the flowers as he passed them, before ascending the stairs toward his apartment, hesitating before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

“Lance? It’s me.”

Silence.

Blue appeared from under the loveseat, meowing at him.

Keith looked at the coffee table, still bearing the words “wash me” written in the dust.

“Lance, I’m sorry. I know you were trying to help.”

He almost tripped on the loose floorboard again, wondering why his heart hurt so much. He looked down at the floor, spying the moldovite crystal necklace where he’d dropped it, almost hidden among the piles of folded clothes, exactly how they’d been when Keith had left.

He leaned over to pick it up, clenching it in his palm and closing his eyes. “I read your obituary, you know. I guess… a lot of people really loved you. Your friend, too. He leaves flowers every week.”

No answer. Keith slid the broken necklace into his pocket, and grabbed the dishrag from the kitchen sink, dousing it with some water, and then wiping off the counters, and the top of the microwave and refrigerator, then moved over to the coffee table, wiping the “wash me” right off.

Finally, he began picking up the folded clothes, bringing as many as he could carry at a time into the bedroom, setting them on the bed as he went up to the wardrobe and began opening drawers.

A pair of legs appeared in his view, dangling over and through the open drawers. He followed them up, to find the familiar face, blue eyes peering out at him. “Finally decided to stay?”

“I’ll think about it,” Keith answered.

Seeming satisfied by this, Lance turned so that his legs were dangling over the other side of the wardrobe. “You said you read my obituary?”

“Yeah, at the library. Was easier once I knew your name.” He began telling Lance everything he had found, as much of the obituary as he could remember, surprised at how easy the words were flowing from him. When was the last time he had talked so much? When finally he finished, he added, “but neither of them actually said how you died. If you were such a good guy… why’d you stay here? Why not move on?”

Lance leaned back on his hands, looking away from Keith. “I never actually got to read my obituary. It sounds… really nice.”

Keith noticed how easily he had avoided the question and changed the subject, but decided not to pursue it. “They really loved you.”

“I miss them… so much,” Lance answered, his voice shaking. “Even my shithead brother, Luis. I miss my mom’s hugs, and Veronica wrestling me to the floor, and… and my niece’s smile…” his voice broke, and he hopped down from the wardrobe, forcing a grin. “Kinda makes me wish I’d been at my own funeral, y’know? Heard Marco finally admit that he actually loved me, or that he _was_ the one who broke Mom’s Carnival Glass bowl, and thus deserved _la chancla._ ”

Just then, Blue padded into the room and jumped onto the wardrobe, looking at Lance and meowing softly.

Lance smiled, genuinely this time, his voice low as he said, “well, at least I got a part of my family back, thanks to you.”

Keith blinked. “What? What part of your family? I’m not related to you, I’m _pretty_ sure…”

Lance tilted his head, rubbing Blue’s fur with his ghostly hand. “What, you didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Blue’s my cat. I adopted her when she was a kitten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehehe
> 
> It's taking me a while to introduce Hunk properly, but we'll get there, I promise! Allura's powers are seriously genuine, not that she can prove it to anyone who doesn't believe her, and Keith has a LOT of issues to deal with. 
> 
> I actually had to go find a local newspaper before I tried writing Lance's obituary. Had to make sure it sounded legit.


	6. Comfortable

The more Keith watched Lance and Blue together, the more he felt like he should have figured it out sooner. Blue was an affectionate cat in general, but magnified several times when it came to Lance. She was determined to sit in his lap, even though she fell right through it nine times out of ten and would grudgingly accept Keith’s as a warm substitute. She would go to _Lance_ to meow for her dinner, even though it was difficult for him to go through all the steps necessary to give it to her. She would go to _Lance_ when she saw a bird outside that she wanted to catch, no matter how many times he reminded her that he couldn’t leave the apartment. It almost made Keith feel a bit rejected, were she not so damn cute about it.

Except maybe the times when she would meow insistently at Keith, despite having come back from a walk, her bowls being full, and her litter box clean, and Keith would never know WHAT she wanted. But Lance was always there, ready with “oh, she wants to get picked up” or “she wants you to brush her.”

At first, Keith thought being a ghost gave Lance some kind of special psychic link with the cat, but Lance assured him that it was just because she had different meows for different things. If that was true, Keith couldn’t tell them apart quite yet.

Still, it was when Lance was playing with Blue that he looked most alive, his energy so strong that he appeared almost solid, although sometimes he deliberately went invisible just so that the shoelace he was dangling in front of Blue’s face would appear as if it was hanging in mid-air. Those were the moments that the apartment would be almost warm, even though Lance was there.

Allura had said that Blue would be a good spiritual guide for Keith, but it really didn’t seem like she was his at all. She never had been.

He wondered if she’d known, as a mystic, that Blue had been Lance’s cat, and that by giving her to Keith she’d be returning home.

“I had _no_ idea.” She answered immediately when Keith asked her about it on his way to work, so stunned at being told that Blue had belonged to Keith’s ghost that she’d accidentally knocked over her own price banner. “Is she _really?!”_

“Yeah. It’s… pretty obvious, actually. You really didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “The police brought her to the shelter three years ago. At the time, she’d been… depressed, refusing to eat. I felt… a special bond with her. I couldn’t let her die. I felt awful force-feeding her until she recovered, but…”

She set the display back upright, clearing her throat. “Perhaps my subconscious mind guided me to give her to you, sensing that doing so would bring her to where she was happiest. It is not unlikely. I must confess, I am not entirely aware of the full extent of my powers.”

“How can you not know? Why do you even _have_ powers, anyway?”

She frowned, stepping behind her booth again. She reached down and opened one of the drawers and pulled out a photograph, smiling at it sadly before holding it out to Keith. “My father, Alfor. He brought me to this country when I was just a little girl. My powers come from him.”

Keith looked down at the photo, at the smiling white-haired man lifting a squealing seven-or-eight-year-old Allura onto his shoulders. “You look a lot like him.”

She paused in the process of taking it back from him. “I do? Most people always tell me I look like my mother.”

He shrugged. “It’s the eyes. And your smile.”

At this she smiled widely as she took the photo back from him. “At the very least, I inherited his abilities. He was a… leader. A guide for my people. They looked up to him, had faith in all he knew about life and death, and the energy that bonds all of us. Other cultures were… less enthusiastic. My father was just another old man with a bag of tricks, as far as they were concerned. But I knew. My father knew so much about our world, and was never afraid to learn more.”

“You sound like you miss him a lot.”

She looked up again, wiping her eyes. “Of course I do. He and my mother died before he could teach me much of anything about how to control my abilities. I suppose I could have let them go, pretended I saw nothing, but… I felt it would do a disservice to his memory. He always told me that spirits exist in this world because there is something they have left undone, or feelings so strong they keep them here. When I first started seeing them as a girl, I was frightened, but… he always reminded me that they are merely lost souls asking for my help. And so help them I will. Both the dead,” she looked up at Keith, smiling, “and the living.”

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

She shrugged. “Among the people I come from, the Sight is not unheard of-- it is a trait many who become leaders possess. But few had powers as strong as my father’s. Some say he made a deal with Death himself to obtain such powers, but such talk is absurd, if you ask me. Simply Westerners conflating my people with their ideas of witches.”

“Well at least no one’s trying to burn you on the stake,” Keith suggested.

“Yes. What a relief.”

~

Keith pushed open the door with his foot, his hands occupied by a paper grocery bag. “ _Lance!”_ he called out, sounding as exhausted and annoyed as he felt. “Wanna tell me why ‘Neutrogena grapefruit wash’ was on your list of must-have cleaning supplies?!”

Lance drifted out of the wall, one finely-plucked eyebrow raised dramatically. “Uh, because it’s a must-have? Do some skincare. Love yourself. Also, did you seriously not know what it was until you got to the store?”

Keith, thinking of the infuriatingly long time he had spent wandering back and forth down the cleaning supplies aisle fruitlessly trying to find it before he finally broke down and asked an employee for help, felt his face heat up and looked away. “Shut up.”

He set the paper bag down on the counter and began unloading the contents, everything from dust cloths to lavender-scented laundry detergent, spreading it out in a line. It was an annoyingly detailed variety. Keith had very little experience cleaning or scrubbing anything, so he’d had Lance make a list of materials he’d need to start cleaning, and the ghost had obliged, creating the extensive list Keith had taken with him to the store that afternoon. Lance really was getting better at holding on to things-- when he’d first tried writing, the pencil would repeatedly fall through his hand, and so he’d have to write one letter at a time, his handwriting resembling a kindergartener’s. The part where it fell through his hand was responsible for the sounds that had been keeping Keith awake at night, apparently. The single note “for Keith” had apparently taken Lance all day to write.

But it was nicer now. Still a little scratchy, but less cartoony.

“So you’re the expert, Lance,” he said, now that the cleaning supplies were out of the bag. “What should I start with?”

“Top down, duh. Here, I’ll dust,” Lance announced, picking up the bag of dust cloths. “You should unpack. It’s your stuff, after all.”

Keith frowned down at the suitcases. “I don’t know where everything should go.”

Lance shrugged, smiling. “Don’t worry, man. I’ll help you.”

~

It took a few days for the two of them to get everything cleaned up, unpacked, and organized. It didn’t help that every so often Lance would lose focus and the package of dust cloths would fall through his hands, landing on Keith’s head as he returned to the luggage to get another stack of clothes. Or that Lance kept giving him pointers every time he tried to do something.

“No wait wait wait wait, you’re gonna want to use the lint roller on that one before you put it away. Blue sat on it and now it’s covered in hair.”

Or

“Do _not_ wear your shoes into the bedroom or I swear to God I will haunt you in your sleep, do you hear me?!”

But overall, it was actually kind of peaceful. Keith found himself slipping into a calming rhythm, growing used to Lance fading out of visibility, the cloths in his hand seeming to float in the air, the swish of them across the furniture and windows following him through the apartment as he neatly folded his perpetually-wrinkled clothes and organized them in the wardrobe, noticing just how depressingly few clothes he actually had, when they were all put away, yet most of the drawers were still half-empty.

It was always “clean out first, then put away,” so as to not get his belongings dirty. Open the windows while he scrubbed the bathroom, the rhythm of the scrub-brush, the burn in his biceps smooth and quickly familiar. He didn’t hate cleaning. Never had. He’d just never bothered before. It was satisfying, to see the dust and grime, mildew build up gradually disappear as he cleaned, scrubbed, disinfected.

Lance, for his part, decided to clean the lighting fixtures and top cupboards of the kitchen, since he could float up to them easily, unlike Keith, unfortunately fixed to the ground. He grew quickly bored, though, instead drifting over to Keith and flopping down on his bed and lounging around while Keith cleaned.

“Do you _ever_ listen to music?”

“Sure, everyone does.”

“It makes cleaning more fun, y’know.”

Keith let go of the rag he was using to scrub the hardwood floors in the bedroom, turning to Lance. “I… don’t mind.”

“Booooored… can you get some music in here?”

Keith frowned. “I don’t have anything to play it on.”

Lance sat up, leaning back on his hands. “You seriously don’t even have a computer?”

“Not… really. I always just used the internet at the library, or on my phone. What do I need to spend money on a computer for?”

Lance made a face at him. “To watch movies? Netflix? You need a _real_ screen for that. I mean, even if you don’t have a TV, you should at _least_ have a computer.”

Keith rolled his eyes, continuing to scrub the floor. “It’s an unnecessary expense.”

Lance groaned. “Aw come _on_ , Keith, a six-hundred dollar laptop goes a long way. And you have _no_ idea how bored I am. ALL the time. Could you at least give me something to do during the day? When you’re not here? I mean, Blue’s here, but she doesn’t want to play _all_ the time.”

“You could help me clean,” Keith remarked, chucking the rag through him.

“Hey! What did I say about throwing things through me!” Lance shouted, grabbing the rag and throwing it back at him. “ _Rude!”_

Keith shook his head, muttering “freeloader,” under his breath.

“Alright, fine, I’ll go back to cleaning. But come on, _please_ just invest in a computer.”

~

Sometimes, when Lance was really focusing on something, like arranging the dishes neatly in the cupboards (fortunately, just about all of Keith’s dishware was plastic, so there was no real danger of them breaking if Lance dropped them), Lance would sing to himself, his voice drifting through the apartment. Most of the time it was the out-of-tune covers of Beyonce, but sometimes, when it would get late in the day and the sun would be fading below the horizon, he would lose even that, and instead drop into soft, sweet Spanish lullabies that tugged at Keith’s heartstrings. At those times, Lance’s voice was so painfully beautiful, Keith kicked himself for not paying more attention in the one year of Spanish he’d taken, so he could try and understand the words. Still, they were the only times that Lance’s facade of “off-key goofball singer” faded, and the raw emotion underneath appeared at the surface.

Once, Keith had peeked into the kitchen when Lance had been singing, seeing his eyelids half-lidded, the song bubbling through his translucent lips. His expression was filled with something that looked like… love. Longing. It was happy and sad, all at once, and in that instant, Keith was reminded that Lance had left a lot of people behind when he died. Of _course_ he missed them. Probably just as much as they missed him.

~

“I’m gonna fix that stupid floorboard,” Keith announced after tripping over it for the thousandth time, almost dropping Blue’s water bowl.

“What? No, you can’t fix that!” Lance argued, materializing in front of him. “It adds character!”

Keith made a face at him. “What, you’re so picky about everything else in this apartment cleaned _just right_ , but you don’t want me to fix the floor that’s trying to _kill me?!”_

“Well yes, that’s because that’s how my mom always taught me to clean. But seriously, not the-- NO!”

Keith was already grabbing the board with his fingertips and pulling it up, revealing an empty space underneath. “Woah, what?!”

“No no no no, keep out of there!”

Keith reached down and pulled out a set of books, brushing the dust off of the covers. “They’re… romance novels?”

Lance snatched them out of his hands, clutching them to his chest. Unfortunately, his high emotion meant that they just fell into his chest and spilled open on the floor. “No! Put them back!” Based on his expression, Keith was pretty sure if he was still alive, he would have been blushing. It was… kind of cute.

“What, are you embarrassed?” Keith asked, picking up the books and investigating their back covers. “They sound cheesy.”

“They’re research materials! Research!” Lance squeaked.

“For _what?!”_

“Just put them back!”

And that was that. The romance novels were returned to the space underneath the loose floorboard, and it was returned to its state, sticking out slightly just above the rest.

~

Eventually, Keith was talked into buying a laptop computer, with the idea that it would keep Lance occupied during the day, and that the internet was an integral part of job-searching in the modern day, if Keith ever decided to change jobs. For this, Keith first called Shiro.

“You want to know what kind of laptop you should get?” Shiro questioned, followed by the deep, burbling meow that told Keith that Shiro was at home with Blackie.

“I’ve never had a computer of my own. I have no idea what I should be looking for.”

“Uh, well, I dunno how to tell you this, Keith, but I’m not gonna be much help with that. I honestly don’t know a lot about computers. The tech guys at the station are always complaining about how many I wreck.” He laughed. “If you’re looking for something specific, maybe you should try one of your friends your age? They have a better chance of knowing what you need than I do.”

Keith frowned. Now that he thought about it, Pidge had apparently made almost all of her ghost-hunting equipment by herself, so she probably knew a fair bit about computers. Still, he wasn’t exactly sure he even wanted her to come to the apartment again. Not that he had anything against her, he just didn’t want her getting her hopes up in seeing Lance. Not when only Keith’s open third eye and moldovite necklace was what enabled him to see the ghost himself. If Pidge wanted to see the ghost, he’d _also_ have to invite Allura over, and he wasn’t really sure he wanted to do that. He wasn’t ready to let them into his life that much.

He wasn’t ready to let _anyone_ into his life that much. It was just that Lance hadn’t given him much of a choice.

Eventually he agreed to meet Pidge at the library, telling her as much as he could about the ghost, and listening to her get excited about the new places she’d been exploring, including the scenes of grisly murders that made even Keith a little queasy to hear about. Still apparently no proof of ghosts, although she was certain she’d caught some evidence of a couple of them.

Finally Keith was able to swing the conversation around to computers, and how he was thinking of getting one of his own. Just for the internet.

“Well, if you were a gamer I’d suggest something with _plenty_ of RAM and processing speed. Oh, and you’re gonna want to get internet, too. _Don’t_ go with Spectrum. They’re cheap but lousy. But do you write a lot? A good keyboard can make or break a computer. How about picture? Display size?”

“Uhhh…”

Eventually Pidge just sighed and pulled out her own laptop, pulling up various online electronics stores and pointing out the various details about each computer, their strengths and weaknesses, and what they were used for. Which Keith had to ask for clarification about several times, but eventually she would shift over to words simple enough for him to understand.

“People do tend to underestimate how much memory space they need, so whatever you think you’re gonna use, double it,” she advised, leaning back in her chair. “And that’s about it. You know what you’re gonna get?”

Keith pondered it, glancing at the list of computers across the six tabs of different websites with different prices. “Uhh, I’m thinking the Lenovo? Or maybe the Asus?”

“Good picks. A little bit pricier, but I can probably get you a cheaper model and fix it up myself.”

Keith blinked at her. “Really?”

She grinned at him. “For a price, of course.”

He winced. Should’ve expected that. “What kind of price, exactly?”

“Pictures. You got a ghost? I want to see what happens when you photograph him.”

~

A few phone-photos of seemingly levitating Blue, dishes, and dust cloths later, Keith found himself with an almost brand-new computer, the only sign that it had been used the worn spots on the keyboard. Pidge had sold it to him for a measly $300 plus the photographs, and then he’d forked out the money for the monthly internet _and_ Netflix account. The first thing he did with it was access his bank’s website and check his account, definitely not liking what he was seeing. He really had to cut back soon, or he’d run short of rent money.

But Lance was far too delighted by the Netflix account to even think about the expense. Keith had even made a separate log-in on the computer and account for him, both labeled as “Lance’s ghost.” As a result, whenever Keith came home from work, the laptop would be sitting atop the wardrobe, Blue curled up behind it, and Lance would be floating in front of it, his eyes fixed on the screen. Apparently he’d died before finishing binge-watching _Parks and Recreation_ , and was now marathoning as many Marvel movies as he could find.

It also meant that when it came time to resume cleaning, after Keith had gotten plenty of sleep, Lance almost immediately found his old Spotify account and started blasting modern hits, loud enough that Keith had to repeatedly remind him that they had neighbors, and he didn’t want any sound complaints (besides the one from the old Puerto Rican man next door, who had apparent noticed the constant yelling in Keith’s apartment, and had told the landlord to tell Keith to tone down the video games).

It was annoying at first, the pop songs grating on Keith’s eardrums, but eventually they found a happy medium, where it was loud enough for Lance to dance along to the beat, without being easily audible from outside. It was also at a convenient volume for Keith to listen to Lance sing as he worked, scrubbing the built-up calcium from the sink, almost too absorbed in listening to even look at what he was doing. Not that he was ever going to tell Lance just how much he liked his voice. Or his face. Or…

Anyway.

Finally, after the walls were scrubbed of mold and mildew, the furniture was dusted, the floors were mopped, the windows wiped clean of bug guts, and the bed sheets and blankets all washed and aired out, the last thing to do was finish unpacking Keith’s bags.

The last things left were his old school supplies, buried in the depths of his luggage. He didn’t really need them anymore, now that he was graduated, but he’d never bothered to throw them out.

Lance began taking out used notebook after used notebook, sorting them into piles of “ruined” versus “usable”. Not that it mattered, since Keith picked up both stacks and slid them onto the small bookshelf in the bedroom, not looking at Lance as he did so.

“What, you still use your…” Lance paused, pulling out a crinkled green spiral notebook, “algebra notes?”

“That’s not the only thing in there,” Keith snapped, taking the notebook back from him and slipping it back onto the shelf. “I’ll go through them myself later.”

“Oh, is this one of those ‘keep out of my stuff, Lance’ moments?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” He leaned back in midair, shrugging. “Alright, man, I got it. You can trust me. Not Hunk, though. You can’t trust him with _anything_ private. He finds out everything and can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Keith frowned. “Who’s Hunk?”

“What? Oh, that’s right, you’re not from this neighborhood. He’s… he _was_ my best bud. Might not have been able to trust him with my secrets, but I could definitely trust him with my life.”

“Didn’t do a good job keeping that, did he?”

The shock of pain through Lance’s face told him that what Keith had meant as a lighthearted joke had actually cut much, much deeper. He was so stupid. He didn’t even know how Lance had died, how could he even _think_ about joking about it?!

Lance’s form began to flicker, his fist clenched. “It wasn’t Hunk’s fault,” he murmured, soft enough for Keith to strain to hear it.

“Lance, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like…”

“No, no, I know.” But he still wasn’t looking at him.

The silence hung between them for a while, words forming in Keith’s throat and then dying whenever he glanced over to see Lance’s expression. But they built up, had been for a while, pushing through the blockade and forcing their way through his lips.

“Lance, how did you die?”

No answer.

“You always avoid the question. Change the subject. I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know _why_.”

Lance turned back to him, eyes searching his face for some hint of a joke, a way out of answering. “I… I made a mistake. It’s embarrassing.”

He faded out, what he usually did to indicate that the conversation was over.

Keith sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop pressing. Just… I want you to tell me. Whenever you’re ready, even if it’s little pieces at a time. Okay?”

Lance reappeared, sitting atop the wardrobe again, his gaze still distant. But he nodded.

Keith’s heart pulsed, and he shook his head and glanced down at his phone, jumping when he realized just how much he’d lost track of time, thanks to focusing so much on the cleaning. He scrambled to his feet, hurrying to get dressed and ready for work, rushing to the bathroom to tie back his hair and brush his teeth.

He was about to head out the door when Lance called out after him. “Keith, wait just a sec!”

Keith stopped, hand already on the doorknob. “What?”

The ghost drifted toward him, much closer than he’d ever been before, blue eyes scanning down at his face, the expression unreadable as he lifted an arm, the pad of his thumb brushing against Keith’s skin. “Sorry. You had dirt on your face from cleaning behind the wardrobe. It’s been driving me crazy all day. Didn’t want you to go outside like that.”

Keith’s heart stopped. The combination of the softness in Lance’s voice, the closeness of his face, enough to look up and see that his tiny blue eyes had even tinier flecks of green in them, and the cold of his touch that had not felt like touch, more like a brisk winter breeze against his skin-- all worked together to instantly kill him.

Okay, maybe not. But that’s definitely what it felt like.

“O-oh. Thanks.” Was he breathing? Keith was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing. Which one of them was dead again?

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and go to work!” Lance scolded, snapping Keith back to his senses.

“Oh, yeah! Okay, I’ll be back!”

He slammed the door behind him, leaning up against it, holding a hand to his heart, which was now beating faster than a hummingbird’s.

 _No no no, please don’t do this,_ he begged it. _There’s no happy way for this to end. Please don’t get a crush on him. Not a...an annoying, whiny, persistent, obnoxious, cat-stealing, pop-loving, charming, flirty, beautiful, blue-eyed, perfect skin…_ he shook his head, reminding himself what he was supposed to be reminding himself. _Please don’t get a crush on a ghost. Please don’t._

But it was already too late, and he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)


	7. Denial

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

_I do NOT have a crush on Lance._

Keith figured that if he chanted the thought to himself enough, it would be true. He was pretty sure he’d heard that in a psychology class or something, that if you thought something hard enough, it became true. Or something like that.* He flooded his thoughts with it, his arms and legs running through the motions of his job while his head was filled with thoughts of the ghost, the closeness of his face, the sound of his voice, the cold of his touch, the shine in his eyes…

And then he would forcefully shove it aside with ice-cold logic.

_It’s not a crush. Your heart just went crazy because you felt guilty and then he was up close to you. Don’t mistake it for something it’s not._

He scrubbed the floors of the law firm with renewed vigor, pushing the dust mop across the floor aggressively, forcing the energy it took for his heart to speed up to go straight into his work.

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

“Oh, hello… Keith, was it?”

Keith looked up, his heart almost jumping through his chest. It was… one of the lawyers at the firm. Technically they were his employers, but to be honest, he saw them so rarely, he sometimes forgot they even actually worked there.

“You’re here late, Ryner.”

She sighed, shifting her briefcase to her other hand. “In reality I am here quite early. I am working a particularly difficult immigration case, so this may become common. Thank you for your hard work.”

He nodded, and she smiled at him as she walked by, continuing on to her office. He let out a breath, reminding himself that Ryner expected little of him, and his experiences with her had been relatively friendly. So he wasn’t going to lose his job just because she saw him mopping the floor with a frown on his face. It was fine.

He hurried to finish his work, putting his cleaning supplies in their respective closet just when his phone rang.

“Pidge?”

“Hey, so I was going over those photos you sent me, and although I know that you’re way too straightforward to fake them, I don’t think they’re going to be enough for me to convince anyone that they’re real. They do look pretty easy to fake. So I wanted to ask if I can come over again.”

Keith frowned, pushing open the door to the street. “Even if you do, I don’t know if he’ll show up. He just vanished when you came by last time. He said he was scared of you.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. But can you just… talk to him? Tell him I’m not gonna hurt him, _I promise_.”

Her tone of voice didn’t sound particularly promising. “ _Are_ you going to hurt him?”

“I don’t think so. To be honest, I’m not sure what some of my equipment would actually do to a real ghost. But, uhhhh… don’t tell him that.”

Keith pressed the phone tighter to his ear, blinking under the light of the rising sun. “I don’t feel like lying to him, Pidge. If I tell him you’re not going to hurt him, I really don’t want you to.”

“Ugh, fine. I won’t test anything that I don’t fully know its effects. I just want to _see_ him.”

That might be easier said than done. As far as Keith knew, he was the only one who could see Lance, thanks to his open third eye and the moldovite crystal necklace that Allura had given him. He told Pidge as much, adding, “she said that if I wanted to reveal Lance to anyone else, she’d have to actually be present.”

“That might actually be useful. I always wanted to test what spirit mediums are actually doing when they ‘work their magic’.” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

He sighed. “I’m not telling you yes. But I’ll _think_ about it.”

“Great! Let me know!”

He ended the phone call, looking at the sun rising red above the gray of the city skyscrapers, wondering why the idea of lying to Lance bothered him so much. Besides having a crush on him. Because he didn’t.

_I do not have a crush on Lance._

~

He went outside almost immediately after getting up, claiming that he was going to head to the gym right away, but really he just couldn’t handle the idea of sharing the same space as Lance right then. Not after what had happened last time.

As he reached the top of the steps, he looked down to see the big guy with the vase of flowers approaching, humming to himself absentmindedly.

Keith stopped, thinking about what Lance had said about his “best bud,” Hunk. And that the landlord had said that the guy who left flowers must have been one of Lance’s friends. It wasn’t a foolproof connection, but…

“Um, hey, are you… Hunk, by chance?” Keith asked, coming down the stairs toward him.

The guy stopped his humming mid-note, his expression morphing quickly from surprise to suspicion. “Who? Me? Yeah. I mean, I mean no. Nooo that’s not me. ...who are you?”

 _So yes, then._ “I… live on the third floor. My name’s Keith. We’ve run into each other a few times, but I never talked to you.”

He stepped level to Hunk, looking up at him. He really was a pretty big guy, emphasized by the big strong-looking arms that his t-shirt didn’t seem quite able to contain. He was round, and dark, but definitely not Latino, which was another tip that he probably wasn’t just any of Lance’s many friends in the community.

“So… why talk to me now?” Hunk asked, half-hiding the little blue flowers behind his back.

Why _was_ Keith talking to him now? Just because he’d put the pieces together? Actually, he hadn’t really prepared for what he was going to _say_ when he started the conversation, so now he was at a loss for words. “I… uhh… always see you bringing those little flowers. I was just… curious about what they’re for.”

Hunk visibly hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked up at the door to Keith’s apartment, the suspicion flickering in his expression to one of marked sorrow. “Oh, they’re… for a friend. In memory, I guess. D’you know what these are?” he asked Keith, producing the flowers from behind his back and holding them out.

Keith shook his head. “They’re pretty, though, I guess.”

“They’re called forget-me-nots,” Hunk answered, smiling fondly down at the flowers. “They grow like weeds in my mom’s greenhouse, so every time I go there I grab a few of them and bring them back here for him. I thought they fit his memory pretty well. And he always liked the color blue. Even named his cat after it.”

Keith snorted, thinking of the blue paint in the apartment, and his obnoxious gray cat. “Yeah, that sounds like Lance.”

Hunk’s eyes widened. “Wait, you _know_ Lance? Or, well, knew him. Since he’s dead.”

Keith hesitated. “You could say that.”

The suspicion returned to Hunk’s face as he nervously shifted the flowers from hand to hand. “But when did you meet him? Because I was with Lance pretty much all of the time and I… I’m pretty sure we’ve never met.”

“ _Relax._  No Hunk, we’ve never met each other before I moved here. I went to a different school. Schools.” He shook his head, deciding to change the subject. “But why do you bring the flowers here? He has a grave, right?”

At this, Hunk turned sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhhhh… that’s kinda hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

He shrugged, reaching down and grabbing the little vase, pulling the dried-out flowers out of it and sliding the new ones in. “I always kind of… felt like he was still here, y’know? Never actually said it to anyone, since, y’know, maybe I just miss him and want to pretend he never left, but I always walk by here on my way to work, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt. Even if he’s not still here, it’s not a bad thing to leave flowers. So I just kept doing it. Weird habit, I know.”

Keith wondered if he should tell Hunk. If, as Lance had said, he would just go tell it to the whole world, which would then decide that Keith was crazy. But there was something about the soft way he said that he felt like Lance was still there... that dug at Keith. It made him want to tell Hunk everything. That he was right. His friend was still there. And he could see him. He _deserved_ to see him.

“...Do you believe in ghosts?”

“What, me? I’m _terrified_ of ghosts. If I ever meet one, I am _out of here._ ”

Not exactly encouraging, but Keith decided to push on. “What would you do if Lance was a ghost? Not a bad one, just… a ghost. Would you want to see him?”

Hunk stepped back, seeming to consider Keith as the gears in his head spun, clicking into place. “What… what are you saying?”

 _Time to take the plunge_. “I live in the apartment that Lance died in. I never met him while he was alive. But… you’re right, Hunk. _He’s still there._ And if you want, I think I can help you talk to him. Or, at least, I know someone who can.”

~

“WHAT?! No no no no nonononono. No. Okay, _Hunk_ can come over. Hunk can come over whenever he wants. In fact, Hunk should have stuck his head in _earlier!_ But I am not letting that gremlin back in here. Too scary. Too scary by far.”

Lance was doing the ghostly equivalent of angry pacing, floating rapidly back and forth across the apartment, drifting through the loveseat as if he’d forgotten it was there.

Keith stepped in front of him, blocking the path of his pacing, setting his jaw and crossing his arms in front of him defiantly. He was a little relieved when it worked, and Lance stopped up short, hovering just a bit above him, because he really didn’t want to know what it felt like when Lance passed through him.

“Just because you haunt this place doesn’t mean you make the rules. It’s _my_ apartment, and if I’m inviting Hunk in here-- who I know _less_ than I do Pidge-- then I might as well knock out two birds with one stone and have Pidge come.”

“If she comes, I’m not gonna show up. I’m gonna go hide in the wardrobe.”

“ _Why?_  What about her is scary to you?!”

Lance hesitated, backing onto the loveseat. “She’s got all that… stuff. And she knows how to use it. What’ll happen if she _does_ prove that I’m real, what if my legacy here is as a ghost? What if people become scared of me? I don’t want that!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I get it.” He sat down next to Lance, then re-thought it and moved a little bit further away. “Look, I’ll tell her not to publish what she finds. It’s all between me, Hunk, Pidge and Allura.”

Lance blinked. “Who’s Allura?”

“The spirit medium. Who opened my third eye and gave me this necklace so I could see you. I have to invite her so that Hunk can see you, too.”

Lance immediately jumped to his feet. “Woah, what?! You didn’t tell me there was a medium coming! Is she pretty?!”

Keith rolled his eyes, grumbling about how “pretty” shouldn’t be the first thing he asked about. But, as far as Keith knew, Allura’s combination of fine features, light blue eyes, and shiny white hair could be considered quite beautiful. Not that he was an expert on that.

“Well? Is she?”

“Yeah, I guess, kinda,” Keith mumbled.

Lance shot to his feet, resuming his pacing, but even faster. “Oh God, a pretty girl is gonna come here! And she’s a medium, right? That means she should be able to see me! I wish I could change clothes, instead of talking to her in my pajamas, but… this is what I’m stuck with. Why did I have to die in my cat pajamas?!”

As he paced, Keith followed him with his eyes, a sour taste in his mouth. “Yeah, she’s coming. So are you gonna show up when they come over, or not?”

Lance turned to him, eyes bright. “What? Oh, yeah! Definitely! When it comes to the ladies, I’ve gotta get my game face on.”

Keith rolled his eyes in disgust, but didn’t say anything.

~

The first knock on the door came earlier than he really wanted. Early in the morning on the weekend was the only time that all of them could get together, but that wasn’t really what annoyed him.

Allura stood on the other side of the door, smiling brightly, a bag of mystery supplies dangling from one hand, and a small container of strawberries in the other. She certainly looked a lot more excited about this than Keith felt. He’d kind of been hoping that Hunk would be the first one to show up, since he was sure that seeing the reunion between the two friends would have improved the mysterious unpleasant mood he was in. But instead it was Allura.

He opened the door for her, accepting the container of strawberries as she passed him, her foot catching on the loose floorboard. “It’s not much, but we spent the last week cleaning it up.”

She took in the space, still bright-eyed and curious. “Oh, did the ghost assist you?”

“More like he bossed me around and did some cleaning when he felt like it, but yeah.”

“Fascinating! May I sit?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Go ahead,” he answered, gesturing to the loveseat.

Just as she sat, setting her bag of supplies down on the coffee table, Lance materialized next to her, his legs crossed in front of him and leaning against the backing. “ _Hello_ there.”

Allura jumped a little, then frowned when she saw the wiggle in his eyebrows. “You must be Lance.”

“You _can_ see me! Wooooah… so you’re the real deal, huh? I gotta say, I think our connection is _magical_.”

She made a face at him, then turned to Keith. “ Ugh, Is he… always like this?”

Keith shrugged. “Dunno. First time there’s been a girl in here that could see him. Well, woman. How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-three. Why?”

“Just curious. A little old for you, isn’t she, Lance?” he suggested, turning away to bring the strawberries to the kitchen area and wash them in water.

“Y’know, I might’ve died at seventeen, but that was three years ago, so technically I’m twenty years old now. That makes me older than _you_ ,” he jeered, still grinning at Allura.

“I… don’t think it works like that,” Keith shot back.

“You’re just jealous. So anyway, Allura…”

Keith tuned him out, hoping Hunk or Pidge would turn up soon, so he could just get this whole thing over with.

He’d never really thought of it before, but the more he saw Lance shamelessly flirting with her, the more Keith realized _just_ how beautiful Allura was. Of _course_ Lance would flirt with her. And since she was a medium, she could actually interact with him.

He was relieved when the next knock arrived, and he hurried to open the door for Pidge so she didn’t drop any of her home-made equipment. He offered to help her set up, but she waved him away. “No no, I got it. So… the ghost, is he here? Is he here right now?”

Keith glanced over at Lance, who was making finger-guns at Allura. Allura, for her part, seemed to be too focused on holding up various crystals to him to notice. “Yup.”

“Cool. So since this is the first time, I just brought the basics. Nothing experimental. Like I promised.”

She set the equipment on the floor, noticing Allura’s bag, turning to her. “Oh, you must be Allura, the spirit medium. I’m Pidge, president of the local Supernatural Investigators Club.”

She gave Allura a friendly smile and held her hand up for a handshake. Allura took it, returning the smile, if a bit shyly. “I’m not certain I can satisfy your desire to find a scientific explanation for my powers, but I will certainly try.”

They got in a conversation about the metaphysics of supernatural phenomena and what Pidge’s hypotheses for them were, which Allura seemed genuinely fascinated by. Keith didn’t understand most of it, and, based on the look on Lance’s face as he hovered behind them, neither did he.

When the final knock on Keith’s door arrived, he felt a little relieved. _Finally,_ Hunk was here. It was kinda strange that he felt comforted by the idea that the person he knew the _least_ was coming to his apartment, but he had to admit, there was something kind of… comforting about Hunk. He just had that kind of energy to him. Which was saying something, coming from Keith, who tended not to trust anyone.

“Hey, come on in. Everyone else is here… are those cookies?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re white chocolate macadamia nut. Used to be Lance’s favorite.”

“Uh, Hunk, he’s dead. I don’t think he can eat them.”

“Oh. Right. Well, it’s about the gesture, right? I, uh, just baked them, so they’re fresh. We can all eat them while we summon a ghost.”

He could smell them, making his stomach grumble a little. “Don’t make it sound like we’re making a weird contract. We’re just talking to _your_ best friend. It’s fine.”

“I know, I know, I’m just saying that this, this right here?” he gestured to Allura, setting up a ring of various crystals, herbs, and candles in a circle around the furniture, “this is weird.”

He plunked down on the loveseat next to Allura, almost going right through Lance, had he not floated out of the way just in time. “Hey! Hunk! I’m right here, man!” he yelled to the back of his friend’s head.

Hunk stuck his finger in his ear, wiggling it around a bit. “Huh, that’s weird. My ears just started ringing.” He shivered, rubbing his arms. “And man, it’s cold in here! Can’t you turn the AC down a little?”

“It’s _not_ AC, Hunk. It’s Lance.”

He made a face at that. “What? Cold? No no, Lance hates cold. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Pidge looked up from calibrating her equipment, adjusting her glasses. “Actually… Hunk, right? Ghosts are fairly well-known for bringing down the temperature of the places they inhabit. My hypothesis is that because they themselves exist as pure energy, they draw the heat out of the air in order to gather enough energy to manifest a physical shape.”

“What, so like… an endothermic reaction without the reaction?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Keith looked at Lance, who shrugged, slouching over the back of the loveseat, Blue attempting to headbutt him. “Hunk’s an uber-geek. Knows more science and mechanics stuff than I could ever try to understand.”

Allura cleared her throat, interrupting all of them. “Alright, everyone, we can continue discussing the scientifics of the supernatural later. Pidge, is everything set up?”

“Yup, and the video camera is already recording.”

“Alright, then, let’s begin. Everyone, come sit in a circle, within the one I’ve laid out, and then join hands with each other. Keith, that means you, too.”

He grudgingly obliged, starting towards the empty space on the floor next to Allura, but Lance swooped in, eagerly grabbing Allura’s hand. “Al _right!_ Let’s get this thing started!”

“Not _you,_ ” Keith snapped, waving his hand through Lance’s head. “Just the living people.”

Hunk looked up. “What, who, me?”

“No… talking to Lance,” Keith grumbled, taking Lance’s place in the circle and linking hands with Allura and Pidge, who was also sitting on the floor.

“Wait wait wait, before we do the whole magic thingy, what… happens if we get it wrong?" Hunk interrupted. "I mean, what if the ghost _isn’t_ Lance. What if we accidentally get a different ghost by mistake! A bad one!”

Pidge let go of his hand, sighing and setting her small notebook onto the living room table in the middle of everyone. “Hunk, calm down, it’s not like we’re summoning him from the land of the dead. Lance is _already_ here. Just not exactly on the same plane of existence.”

She began drawing, and everyone leaned closer, curious. “I’m not following you,” Keith said.

“Okay, so we know from like… second grade art class that there are multiple dimensions, right? Technically we start with zero, which is a single point.” she jabbed the paper with her pen, producing a tiny dot. “Add another point, and connect them, and you get the first dimension. It goes only one direction, and has no area. But then if we add more points…” she drew a few more lines, making a square. “We get the second dimension.” She lifted up the paper, showing everyone. “It has area, but no volume, because it’s flat. But if we mess with it a little…

She took a second page of paper, tore it out, and then crumpled it into a ball. “Three dimensions. It’s most of what we experience the world in. We’re certain of at least one more dimension, but there are probably a bunch more that we can’t even understand. Some people think that the fifth dimension is time.”

“So… Lance is on the fifth dimension?” Keith guessed.

“Sort of.”

She returned to the first paper, drawing more lines connected to the existing square, scribbling in a little shading, then lifting it up to show everyone. “Lance is something like this.”

Allura frowned at the paper. “A… strange cube?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “No! The cube is just an example. Look, when you look at this drawing, it’s a cube, right? Simple stuff. But actually, it’s just a drawing on a piece of paper. It’s still two-dimensional.”

Lance slumped against Hunk, who shivered again. “I don’t get it.”

Pidge must’ve seen Keith’s expression, because she sighed. “What I’m saying is, Lance is kind of _like_ this drawing. He’s made to _look_ like he’s in our dimension, but he’s actually on a higher one. So… he’s kind of in-between.”

Hunk nodded, rubbing his chin. “Ohhhh, I get it! Okay, so Lance is _here_ , but not exactly the same.”

“Right! Or, well, that’s my hypothesis.”

Keith sighed. “Okay, I _think_ I get it. Can we just… get on with it?”

Hunk narrowed his eyes at him. “Well. Someone’s grumpy.”

“I’m not _grumpy_. I’m just not used to strangers in my apartment.”

“Right, sure.”

But they did manage to focus, joining hands again and following Allura’s instructions. Allura’s hand was warm, but not sweaty (unlike Pidge’s), and when Keith closed his eyes, he could see her energy, just like he’d done before, suddenly more aware than ever of the moldovite crystal settled between his collarbones. He could see the others, too, although much dimmer. Pidge, a light green; Hunk, a warm golden-yellow. And yes, even Lance. What a beautiful shade of blue. _Everything_ about him was blue.

Allura squeezed his hand. “Keith, I sense your concentration wavering. Since you also have an open third eye, I’m counting on your help to guide the others.”

He winced, realizing what he’d been doing. _I do not have a crush on Lance. I’m just focusing on him too hard because he’s the reason we’re here._

She guided them through the steps, some of them familiar to Keith, such as closing their eyes but imagining they see, but some of them a bit different.

“I am reaching out to you with my energy. Feel it envelop you, spreading through our shared touch, flowing through your veins. As long as I am here, with you, my energy, my power is your guide. Embrace it. With it, you can see.”

She began chanting, in the same strange language of the spell she had given for Keith to get rid of Lance. Although occasionally she would interrupt to snap at Hunk to stop peeking.

Energy. Lance’s was becoming brighter, warmer. Their energy was spreading, filling the room, pouring into the ghost’s aura, mingling with the smell of the herbs and candles, the sound of Allura’s voice.

“It is done.”

They peeled open their eyes, looking around the room. To Keith, nothing really looked different. Lance was still leaning over Hunk’s shoulder, looking back and forth between the non-ghosts in the room.

“Uhhh… did it work?”

Pidge and Hunk both screamed, eyes suddenly trained on him, pointing at him wildly.

“Is that him?!” Pidge yelled, jumping for her video camera and holding it up, her hands shaking. “Are you sure your friend is dead, and not just a body double?”

Hunk peered at Lance, frowning in concentration, his nose about two inches from Lance’s face. “Hmmmmm… huhhh… uhhhhmmmmm…”

“Well? What is it?!”

Hunk pulled away, shrugging at Pidge. “Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s Lance, alright. And yeah, I’m pretty sure he died. I was _at_ his funeral. I even… I even gave him this great eulogy…”

He started tearing up, which quickly escalated to full-on sobbing as he threw his arms around Lance, only really succeeding in hugging himself, but Lance didn’t seem to mind. “Ohhh, buddy, I NEVER thought I’d see you again!”

Everything erupted into noisy chaos. Pidge shot off question after question. Hunk was still crying. Lance was trying to answer Pidge’s questions and comfort his friend at the same time, and Allura was trying to settle them all down.

And that’s when the knock came at the door.

Keith’s blood ran cold. He wasn’t expecting anyone else.

He looked around at everyone still talking, shouting, meowing (in the case of Blue), trying to tell if anyone else had heard the knock. It didn’t seem like they did, so maybe he was just hearing things.

 _Knock knock knock knock_.

“Keith? Hey, it’s me.”

_Shiro?!_

“Do you have friends over? It’s pretty loud in there.”

_Why didn’t he just call?!_

Except Allura had told him to silence his phone in order to limit distraction. And then Pidge had told them all to shut their phones _off_ , so they wouldn’t interfere with her EM readings.

This, everyone else noticed. The chaos froze, everyone exchanging glances. How were they going to explain a ghost?!

Keith got up, making his way to the door, while everyone shuffled around behind him, hiding behind the furniture, in Hunk’s case.

Keith opened the door as little as possible, slipping out without giving Shiro a chance to see inside. “Hey, what’re you here for?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking past Keith at the door. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer.” He held up a small box, giving it a shake. Inside, Keith heard jingling, like tiny metal bells. “One of the other officers gave me some cat toys to give to Blackie, but they’re way too small for her. Thought I’d drop by and give them to you for Blue.” He frowned again. “Is this… a bad time?”

“Uhhhh… no. No, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“It sounded like you had guests. By the way, how’s it going with that noisy neighbor? Are you getting along?”

“Fine. I… talked to him.”

“Is he one of the friends over?”

“Uh, yeah. So thanks for the toys, but I’m just gonna…” he stepped back, and his heel hit the door, which he’d never fully shut behind him. It swung open with a creak, revealing the entire apartment. Allura in full view, Blue sitting in her lap. Hunk trying to hide behind the loveseat, but still mostly visible. And Pidge, mid-step toward the bathroom, her hand on the doorknob.

Lance was nowhere to be seen, but that was the least interesting thing.

The most interesting thing was the way Shiro shifted instantly from relaxed-big-brother mode to cop-mode, straightening and scanning across the scene slowly, taking all of it in, from Allura, to Hunk, and then coming to rest on the back of Pidge’s head, when he finally stopped, crossing his arms. “What are you doing here, Katie?”

Pidge twitched, then turned slowly, greeting them with a huge forced smile. “Uhhh, hey Shiro!”

Keith looked back and forth between the two of them, completely stunned. “Wait, you… _know_ each other?!”

He nodded, frowning, still in cop mode. “Yep. That’s Katie Holt, frequently cited for defying curfew _and_ entering restricted areas, especially crime scenes. We’ve met quite a few times.”

The tension filled the air like fog, thick enough to be hard to breathe. Slowly, Hunk leaned out from behind the loveseat, his expression pinched. “Uhhh… do you want a cookie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *What Keith's thinking of is the placebo effect, which is when you /believe/ something is true, even when it's not, which makes your body/brain act the same way it would even if it wasn't true. Like your headache going away from taking what you're told is painkiller, when it's actually just a sugar pill. Doesn't work so well for just plain denial.
> 
> -It always drives me crazy when I’m watching a documentary or sci-fi show or something and a supposed scientist says “I have a theory.” A theory is something that has ALREADY BEEN TESTED. Usually tested several times, found generalizable, and likely to be universally true. At the VERY least, something is a theory because there are very few other viable scientific explanations (ex: Big Bang Theory). Therefore, any scientist worth their salt would never say they have a /theory/ for something they don’t have a good understanding of yet. Just a /hypothesis/. Kind of an “educated guess.”


	8. The Beginning of the Storm

Over the plate of Hunk’s still warm-and-gooey cookies and Allura’s strawberries, Keith introduced Shiro to everyone, and how they’d met. Which also meant that he was forced to explain the whole ghost situation. For her part, Pidge (Katie? Apparently that was her real name, but Keith had gotten pretty used to calling her Pidge) sat numbly on the floor, fidgeting with her equipment and not meeting Shiro’s gaze when Keith explained the part about the library and her first visit to the apartment.

When finally everyone had been introduced, ending with Keith’s spur-of-the-moment decision to invite Hunk, Shiro leaned back into the loveseat and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You know, when I mentioned the possibility of a ghost in your apartment, I didn’t think you’d take it seriously.”

“I _didn’t_ ,” Keith shot back, looking around the apartment for where Lance had disappeared to, but didn’t see him. Even Blue seemed perfectly contented curled up in Allura’s lap. “It was all just kind of… on a whim. I didn’t expect there to actually _be_ one.”

Shiro opened his eyes again, turning to Hunk, sitting between Pidge and Keith on the floor, half-concealing Pidge from Shiro’s view as if to protect her. “And Hunk, I thought you didn’t live in this neighborhood anymore?”

Hunk hid his face a little bit, but Keith stared at Shiro aghast. “Wait, you know _him_ , too?!”

Shiro shrugged. “This is my precinct. I know a lot of people. Except Allura,” he added, turning to her. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Oh, I…I’ve been here a while. I suppose I’m just not likely to start trouble.”

“And Hunk _is?!_ ” Keith remarked, still unnerved by how intertwined all of this was.

Hunk sat up, raising a finger. “In my defense, all of the stuff we got in trouble for was _Lance’s_ idea. I always tried to stop him, but… he’s pretty stubborn.”

“Oh, right, the ghost,” Shiro interrupted, looking around the apartment. “There’s _really_ a ghost here?”

Keith nodded, rubbing the moldovite crystal at his collarbone and scanning the room. “Yeah, he was just here. But when you came, he disappeared.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Keith immediately found it necessary to defend himself. “He _was!_ We all saw him!”

He kind of expected the others to just lie, leaving him out to dry. But they didn’t.

Pidge and Allura both immediately jumped to his defense, that they had seen Lance themselves. Pidge had even caught it on camera. And then Hunk mentioned that he’d even confirmed that it was his dead friend.

Keith felt a little bit of warmth in his heart at that. At the confirmation that what he had seen with his own eyes was, in fact, true.

“But where is he, then?” Shiro asked.

Keith got up, moving toward the bedroom door, aware that everyone’s eyes were following him. He opened it, searching the room for any sign of the pajama-clad ghost. Nothing.

“Just… give me a second,” he claimed, shutting the door behind him. He walked to the wardrobe, at his computer, where Lance liked to sit. “Lance?” he whispered. “Lance, are you there?”

No answer.

He tried for ten minutes, no response. It wasn’t until Allura came to knock on the door to ask him if everything was alright that he finally gave up and came out, face pinched. “He was _here_. He was flirting with Allura.”

Shiro shrugged, then put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Keith. You have three witnesses supporting you. But… since the ghost is clearly nowhere to be found, I think it’s time everyone went home. There’s supposed to be some severe thunderstorms this afternoon and I don’t want anyone caught out in them.”

Keith nodded, and everyone started cleaning up, mostly in an awkward silence. Hunk insisted that Keith take some of the cookies. Allura gave everyone some herbs for cleansing evil influences. Pidge and Hunk exchanged contact info.

Meanwhile, Shiro confronted Keith.

“Keith, I trust your judgement, and they’re good people, honestly. But I’m afraid that this whole situation might get you into trouble. You can’t afford to get into any more trouble.”

Keith crossed his arms, looking defiantly up at him. “I didn’t _ask_ for any of this to happen! And it’s all in my own apartment, so what’s the problem?”

Shiro sighed. “Katie… _Pidge_ hasn’t technically broken any laws yet, but she walks a pretty fine line. I trust you, Keith. You know that.”

Keith forced a smile, but looked away. “I know. I trust you, too. That’s why I told you all of this.”

“Do you know… why he wouldn’t want to see me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s scared of you?”

Shiro was about to answer, but Allura interrupted him. “Oh, officer Shirogane, would you like some herbs for your house as well?”

He turned to Allura amicably, his conversation with Keith forgotten.

“Please, call me Shiro…”

It continued that way until everyone’s belongings had been gathered, and they all slowly trickled out of Keith’s apartment, beginning to warm up to each other already. But Keith couldn’t really make himself join them, even when Shiro found himself explaining his relationship to Keith with everyone. All of Keith’s past misdeeds, laid bare in front of all of the people who could have been his friends. But who needed friends, anyway? He cared less than he probably should have, too preoccupied with wondering where and why Lance had gone. When finally all of the others left, he felt relieved, watching Shiro shut the front door behind himself.

He sighed, sliding down the refrigerator door until he reached the floor, running his fingers back through his hair, suddenly exhausted.

 _I need sleep. That must be why I was in such a bad mood the whole time_ , he reasoned, getting up to return to the bedroom, stopping short when he saw the pair of long, thin legs dangling over the edge of the wardrobe. He followed them up to Lance’s face, pouting so deeply his entire body was slouched forward.

Keith knew he should be angry at Lance for being the only one to sell him short, but he didn’t have the energy. Especially not when the expression on Lance’s face looked so genuinely… destroyed.

“Lance… where did you go?” he asked, his voice even softer than he’d expected it to be.

Lance didn’t look at him. “She looked so happy when she met Shiro. I mean, who wouldn’t be? He’s built like a damn underwear model.”

Keith fought a smile, recognizing his own thoughts from Lance’s lips. But his amusement didn’t overpower the cottony feeling in his mouth. “She’s just a friendly person, Lance. Quit pouting.” He walked toward the bed, lifting the blankets to crawl under them.

“How can he know _everyone_ except the really pretty one? That seems _way_ too convenient. You know?”

Keith paused, one leg in the bed. “Wait… you know Shiro, too?”

Lance didn’t answer.

“Lance, what’s going on? How can you know Shiro? He would’ve known your name. He would’ve… he would’ve told me.”

Something was clawing at his heart. Something dark. Something that felt alarmingly close to doubt.

He stared hard at Lance, trying to read something, anything in his expression that would give him answers. Something that would unravel the mystery, push aside all of these confusing emotions in his head and let him rest.

What Keith got was a black hole opening up in his wall.

Black hole not as in an object in space with extreme gravitational pull, but like… a hole in the wall. That was black. And something… some _one_ was stepping through.

Keith put his hand to his moldovite necklace, staring in horror at the black-clad figure with orange hair and matching moustache coming through this… hole, wondering if he was seeing things.

“Quiznak, Lance! What was with all of the hullabaloo around here?!” the figure announced upon coming through, leaning towards Lance with an eyebrow raised. “Had to come check it out myself!”

Lance looked between the black-clad figure and Keith, mouth open. “Uhhh… Coran, now’s not really a good time…”

Coran followed his gaze, blinking when he saw Keith. His eyes then flicked back and forth between the two boys before he leaned toward Lance conspiratorially and whispered, “it’s all right, he can’t see me.”

“Of course I can see you!” Keith roared, reaching under his pillow for the knife he kept there. “Who the hell are you?! How did you-?!”

“Woah woah woah, cool your jets, Keith!” Lance interrupted, stepping between him and Coran. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just a reaper!”

Keith didn’t loosen his grip on his knife. “A reaper? Like… grim reaper?”

“Yeah exactly!”

“So… he’s going to take you away?” Keith asked, annoyed by the stab of fear that shot through his heart, concentrating hard on not letting it show on his face.

Lance stepped back, throwing his arm around Coran’s shoulders. “Naw, Coran’s cool. He’s just here to check on me and make sure I’m not getting in any trouble! Like Shiro does for you!” He paused, considering what he’d just said, then grinned back at Keith. “I guess you could say that Shiro is _your_ parole officer, and Coran is mine!”

Keith looked between the two of them, then let go of the knife’s handle and sat back on the bed, blurting out, “Shiro’s a _juvenile justice_ officer.”

“Whatever, same thing. Anyway, Coran, everything’s fine. Keith here just had a bunch of friends over so that they could see me. I even got to talk to Hunk again!”

Coran reflected his smile, patting him on the shoulder. Weirdly enough, he seemed to interact with Lance as if he was _solid_ , even though his presence made Lance look more transparent than ever.

Lance went on a tangent about everything that happened, even attempting to explain Pidge’s “sciency stuff,” dragging Coran to the living room and showing him Pidge’s sketches, while Keith followed curiously.

Coran picked up the papers, his expression tight as Lance attempted to explain.

“Interesting. This Pidge character sure sounds like a right genius! Most of these hypotheses are close to spot-on. Almost frighteningly so.”

“I _know_ ,” Lance remarked, excited. “I mean, she kind of scares me, but she doesn’t seem so bad now that I actually got to know her.”

Coran set the paper down, straightening up. “I’d say the only thing she missed is how closely ghosts are tied to certain physical objects or places on Earth. Otherwise they can’t stay!”

Keith was pretty sure he’d heard Pidge mention it before, but couldn’t place when. Still, he was curious if…

“Wait, Coran… what do you mean by physical object? Like… the place they died?”

Coran waggled his finger dramatically. “Usually, but not always! Sometimes it’s just an object that has a particular value to the deceased individual. Sometimes they can even attach themselves to a person! Although… that’s usually for revenge. Us reapers sometimes have to come and remove the individual by force when that happens. I’d rather not, though. Tends to leave a right mess, ectoplasm all over the place…” he shuddered, then brightened. “Not in Lance’s case, though! Might be nice to get some fresh air every once in a while, were he not tied to that wardrobe…”

Keith froze, his gaze drawn to Lance’s face. “The wardrobe?”

Lance suddenly jumped, dragging Coran away by the arm. “Oooookay Coran, I think that’s enough. Don’t need to be freaking Keith out by too many things. He’s tired, and you’ve got souls to go collect, right? Thanks for dropping by, everything’s fine, see you next time, ‘kay?”

Coran seemed stunned by Lance’s sudden shift, but obliged in re-opening the black hole in the wall. “But Lance, don’t forget to ask Keith for help! You’re supposed to be moving on, remember!”

“Yup, yup, got it! Bye!” With one last push from Lance, Coran disappeared back inside the hole, which blinked closed behind him, smoothing over until all that was left was the light blue of the bedroom wall, as if it had never been there.

As soon as Lance turned back to Keith, though, his smile was gone, replaced by barely-concealed panic.

Outside, the summer storm Shiro had mentioned was darkening the sky, casting shadows over the room, although, as always, Lance’s ghostly form glowed dimly blue, making it impossible for him to hide, impossible for Keith to look anywhere but right at him.

“I didn’t expect…”

“Whatever he said, no matter how much of it is true… I won’t believe any of it unless it comes straight from you,” Keith interrupted, crossing his arms. “I want to understand, Lance. Why you haven’t passed on, how you died, what you haunt… it can’t be revenge, or anger, or obsession, because… you just stay _here_ , instead of trying to haunt someone. You didn’t even try to get me out of this apartment. And… I don’t know, you just don’t seem like someone who would do that. Not from what I read in your obituary.” He paused, feeling like someone was reaching into his ribcage and squeezing the blood out of his heart. “Coran told you to ask me for help. Well… here I am. But I can’t… I _won’t_ help you until you tell me what’s going on.”

Lance slumped against the wardrobe, his face still pained. He curled up into a ball, resting his chin on his knees and watching as Blue dashed into the room, hiding under the bed just as the first bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. The wind picked up, and still Lance remained silent. Thunder rumbled, and still Lance remained silent.

“Lance… why did you hide when Shiro came?” Keith asked again. “Please, Lance. He’s the only person who ever… cared about me. I _trust_ him. I want you to trust him, too.”

Finally, Lance closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before choking out, “I do trust him. I just can’t let him see me.”

“Why not?”

“You… really didn’t know? He’s like your only friend and he never told you?”

“Lance, I’m being serious, here.”

“I’m being serious, too!” Lance uncurled himself, looking up at Keith in agonizing confusion. “He got you this apartment, told you there was a ghost here, and not _once_ mentioned to you that _he’s the first cop to find me?"_

Outside, the rain hammered against the windows, pouring badly-needed water onto the city streets, rooftops, and Hunk’s little vase of forget-me-nots at the bottom of the stairs. And pouring ice straight into the veins of Keith’s blood. “You mean… when you were alive?”

“No, Keith, I mean… Shiro wasn’t a juvenile justice officer three years ago. He was just a regular cop. And he was the first one on the scene after my body was found. He knows everything. All of the embarrassing, painful details about how I died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty short chapter this time, but last chapter was pretty long, so they even out lol.


	9. Guilt

_Shiro would have told me._

Everyone Keith had brought into his apartment had tripped over the loose floorboard except Hunk and Shiro.

_He would’ve told me._

He’d known Hunk. Who was Lance’s best friend.

_I trust Shiro._

Shiro had said that he was surprised no one had adopted Blue “sooner,” as if he’d known how long she’d been in the shelter. Even though he and Allura had never met.

_He would never lie to me._

He’d known that no one had lived in that apartment for three years.

_He’s never lied to me before._

Shiro hadn’t found it at all strange that Blue had felt so at home at Keith’s apartment. He’d just said that she must be friendly.

Outside, the storm raged, wind thrashing through the trees, rain drilling against the window panes. Lightning flashing so bright it illuminated all of Keith’s room for a moment.

He dove for the computer, his fingers so unsteady on the keys that he mistyped his own password three times. Lance watched him, eyebrows furrowed, expression so full of… of pain. Of pity.

“Keith, please don’t do this to yourself.”

The same obituaries he had found before. The same scanned copies of the local newspaper. Pan out to the whole thing. Find the police calls page.

_Pair of deceased discovered at… officer Shirogane reported._

He read the line over again. And again. And again.

“A pair of deceased?”

Lance looked away from him, his eyelids so low over his eyes that his irises were barely visible. He closed in on himself, wrapping his legs up tightly in his own arms and pulling his ghostly pajamas around himself.

“Lance… someone _else_ died in here?”

Lance’s face contorted, something glittering beginning to form at the base of his eyes, trickling down his face. A tear. He could cry. He was crying.

“It was all my fault.”

Keith fell to the floor next to him, feeling as if his heart was about to snap in two. He’d seen Lance soften before. He’d seen pain on his face, pity, even grief. But that was nothing like this. This pure agony, that somehow managed to find its way straight into Keith, as if it was his own. He hated seeing Lance like this.

“Lance, it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“You don’t know what happened,” Lance sobbed, then began fading away. Keith reached for him, as if he could hold onto him, make him stay a little longer, but it was too late. Lance’s ghostly form was gone, Keith’s hand passing through empty air.

Keith pulled himself back to his feet, forcing himself to find the obituaries again. Read the other entries. Find the name underneath Lance’s.

_Lance Mcclain, 17, found dead by a neighbor in his apartment at…_

_Juanita Santiago, 8 months, found dead at…_

Another knife straight into his chest. Cold steel plunging through his core, turning all of his blood to ice.

_Shiro knew._

He needed answers. He needed them _now_.

He wasn’t even thinking about what he was doing. He just needed to _move_ , to do something about the way his insides were twisting around in his gut, the dark _thing_ clawing at his heart.

He grabbed his jacket, jamming his feet into his shoes. Blue meowed at him from the bed, confused as to why he had suddenly decided not to sleep, but he couldn’t be distracted by her now. He was a man possessed, mad with curiosity, with agony, with… with _betrayal._

He ran to the door, Lance suddenly appearing next to the wardrobe, chasing after him, even as he ran, calling out after him, his voice distorted by the tears. “Keith?! Keith, stop! Don’t go out there! It’s practically tornado weather outside! Keith! Keith STOP!”

Lance’s voice calling to him. Lance, who was cold and warm, loud and soft, annoying and charming, beautiful and blue, blue, blue, whose voice grabbed at Keith’s heartstrings and tugged, pulled him back, back, back…

Keith threw open the door and ran outside into the wind and rain, his need for answers even stronger than the magnetism of Lance’s voice.

Behind him, Lance ran at the doorway at full speed, only to be snapped backwards by some invisible cord, his hand still reaching toward Keith as he disappeared into the storm.

~

Keith called Shiro while he ran, almost dropping his phone quite a few times because it was already slick with rain. He called his cell. No answer. His home phone. No answer. Even called his phone at the station, too desperate to even feel the shame he was so used to feeling at the memory of the dozens of hours he had spent at that station, waiting for some reluctant person to come pick him up.

“Hello, you’ve reached Juvenile Justice Officer Shirogane’s desk phone. He’s out of the office right now. Can I help you with something?” asked a female voice Keith recognized as Officer Acxa, mainly because she’d arrested him a few times.

“Where’s Shiro?! I need to talk to him!” he gasped, still running against the gusts of wind blasting rain into his face.

“Who is this?”

“Keith! Please, can you tell me where he is?!”

“Oh, Kogane, is it? I’m sorry, but Shiro was out on a civil disturbance complaint, and should be going home after that. I can try calling him for you, but…” she paused, concern filling her voice. “Keith, are you out in the storm?!”

Keith hung up on her, shoving his phone back into his already-soaked jacket and running faster, carrying himself through the neighborhood and to Shiro’s house, up the steps to the door, hammering on it with his fist, screaming over the thunder and the wind and rain.

“SHIRO! SHIRO PLEASE!”

The wind picked up, carrying with it tiny bits of ice that stung at Keith’s head. _Hail._

He knew he was being stupid. That if Shiro hadn’t answered his home phone, he must not be home. But he couldn’t think of anything else to do. He couldn’t go back to Lance, not to see him with so much pain on his face. And Keith didn’t have anyone else. He only had Shiro. He’d only _ever_ had Shiro.

The hail began to grow, hammering against Keith’s skull. Inside of him, the flame of desperation only raged higher, lashing out against the cold.

He gave up on the door, climbing over the rails to one of the windows, jiggling it, maybe to get its latch open. He’d done it before. Not with Shiro’s window, but…

First at a distance, then all around him, the sirens. Wailing as if to mark the passing of a king, their screams pulsing through the empty streets of the city. Tornado sirens.

And then flashing blue and red and blue and red and blue and red against the darkness of the storm, blinding him. He almost fell off the windowsill, shielding himself from its brightness, against the screech it brought with it, crashing into his ears.

“Put your hands up and step away from the house!” someone shouted, their shadow lost behind the flashing lights.

 _Someone had called the police on him_.

_What a coincidence, since he’d been trying to break into the house of a police officer._

“WAIT! That’s Keith!”

Shiro.

Shiro, running toward him through the lights, through the rain, through the hail. Waving for them to turn off the lights.

It was a blur, a blur of fire burning inside him, the storm outside, and then he was inside, the lights were fading into the distance, and Shiro was peeling Keith’s jacket from him, wrapping him in a towel, and then a blanket, and then another blanket. Keith hadn’t even realized he’d been shivering.

“What were you doing?!” Shiro shouted, starting to peel off his own drenched clothes now that Keith was taken care of. “Do you realize how dangerous it is out there?! I _told_ you this morning that I didn’t want anyone outside in this. Why would you--?”

“You knew about Lance,” Keith interrupted, glaring at him intensely despite his own shivering body. “You knew, and you never told me.”

In the darkness of the apartment, Blackie’s yellow eyes glowed, as if burning with as much accusation and suspicion as Keith felt.

Shiro froze in the process of pulling off his soaked white t-shirt, letting it fall. “Keith, I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“But you did. You _knew_ Lance. You’re the one who set me up in that apartment. Who gave Blue to the animal shelter. All of it, the whole time, you knew. _Why_ wouldn’t you tell me?! What happened back then?! All of it is spinning around in my head and I’m so confused… I never asked for any of this. But now I can’t just let it go. I can’t just let him go.”

Shiro sat down next to him on the couch, eyes soft, but worried. Guilty. “Keith, I didn’t want you to think so much about the past. Who I am, and who you are right now… was always more important. Why… do you need to know so _badly?"_

Keith curled in on himself, feeling like the turmoil inside of him was going to rip him apart. “Because I’ve never _felt_ this way, Shiro. About anyone. I always felt like it would be fine, maybe even a good thing if I just… vanished one day. There’s no one to miss me, anyway. But Lance is... “ he choked on the words, giving up on his feeble attempt at denial. “I was jealous. God, I was _so_ jealous when he was flirting with Allura. But that was nothing compared to how I felt when I saw him in pain. It ripped me apart, Shiro. You’re the one who _put me in that place_. The least you can do is tell me. Tell me what happened. How you knew Lance.”

Shiro sighed, leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes.

“Lance Alvarez. Or, well, that’s how most people knew him. His real last name is Mcclain, because his father was mixed, but he always identified more with his mom’s family.”

At least Keith now understood why he got mixed answers about what Lance’s last name was.

“I didn’t know him by much more than reputation, really. He was… a really good kid. Not exactly what you’d call a brainiac, but he had good instincts. Street smarts. And he used them to help out other people. You know the Latino community’s pretty big around here, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s face it, the government, the city, even other citizens… don’t make it easy for them. It made them fall into despair, to give up on living better lives. Lance worked really hard to fix that. Not that you’d know it if you met him-- he was always throwing big block parties, festivals, getting community gardens started, and starting these huge summer volleyball tournaments that the whole neighborhood would get caught up in. He always seemed like such a goofball, I never really took him seriously.” He paused, swallowing hard and looking down. “It wasn’t until after… after he died I realized just how much he’d been doing for everyone. He gave everyone something to look forward to. He helped make the community fun. For a lot of those kids, who might have felt like they didn’t have… anything, I think he might even have saved their lives.”

“How… did you even meet him?”

“Oh, well, sometimes things got a little rowdy. I was just a junior cop, and you know, a bunch of people of color having fun? A lot of people just can’t handle that idea. So I’d get called out, and helped settle things down. Somehow or another, Lance would come up as the one who started it, and he’d take responsibility for anything that went wrong.”

“Did it?” Keith asked.

“Did it what?”

“Go wrong.”

“Oh,” Shiro replied, “yeah. A few times.”

He sighed, reaching down to pet Blackie, who sat down at his feet. “I wasn’t always the first cop to get called in. A lot of my co-workers are a little… jumpier than I am. They don’t always try to understand what people are doing. And some of the people in the community would get defensive, especially the youth. They had every right to, but it got dicey. And Lance would kind of come out nowhere and calm down the situation. He was really good at that. Seriously, he was just really socially savvy.”

“Okay… but what about when he died?” Keith shivered, drawing the blankets tighter around himself, water still dripping from his hair and tickling him as it trickled down his skin.

A muscle jumped in Shiro’s jaw as he remembered. “The woman who found the bodies was in hysterics. I was in the neighborhood on patrol, so they called me in. I tried to help her calm down. I guess, earlier, there had been a dispute between a teenage Latino boy and one of the other cops, and Lance had come out to settle things down. Got the kid home safe. The kid’s mom came back a few days later to thank him for saving her boy from jail, only to find…”

He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. “I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I wasn’t sure what the community would do with the void he left. It felt like he had so much work he hadn’t finished. So… I switched where I was going as a cop. Moved over to juvenile justice. I guess… I wanted to help kids out, the same way he did. It sounds weird to be inspired by a kid, but… when you’re a cop, these things happen.” He shrugged, looking at Keith out of the corner of his eye and smiling sadly, but softly. “And that’s where I met you.”

Keith stared down at his hands, one gripping the blanket, the other wrapped around the moldovite crystal that enabled him to see Lance. Noticing how white his knuckles were, he forced himself to relax them. “Did you know? That he was still there?”

Shiro thought about it for a while, frowning. “I dunno. Maybe a part of me did. I guess all I was really thinking was that living in the same place he did, you might, I don’t know… absorb some of those social skills.”

Keith glared at him.

“What?! I’m serious!”

Keith continued glaring at him. “Is that a reason to lie to me?! To hide it from me, even though you were throwing me into your past?!”

“You’re the strongest kid I know, Keith. I knew if I told you what I _wanted_ you to do, you’d resist. If you just… adapted naturally, it would be fine. Admittedly, I couldn’t have known Lance was actually there, or even that he would mean… so much to you. But that apartment changed my life, in a good way, despite the circumstances. I wanted it to change yours, too.”

Keith softened his glare, but he was still frowning. “You should have told me. Instead of hiding it.”

Shiro turned to him, smiling unbelievably softly. “Would you have changed your mind, even if I had?”

Keith thought about his first few days with Lance: the dropped pens, the cups of coffee, the opening drawers, the “wash me” written on the cupboards, the scream-singing Beyonce in the middle of the day mixed with the soft, sweet Spanish lullabies.

“No.”

“Then that’s why. He balances you out, Keith. I can already tell, you’ve changed. I just wish… you could have met him when he was alive.”

Keith frowned down at the necklace again, his throat thick. “Yeah… me too.”

~

After the storm had passed and Keith had changed into a fresh set of clothes (Shiro’s, which meant they were WAY too big for him, but at least they were dry), he made his way back to the apartment, his heart still twisted around in his chest.

 _If you want the details about how he died, you’re going to have to ask him. All we can do is guess. I don’t want to give you any false pictures of what happened,_ Shiro had said.

Keith pulled the sleeves of the sweater further out over his hands, flopping them against his legs as he walked, imagining Lance, as Shiro described him. Imagining him playing volleyball with a neighborhood of Latino kids, grinning energetically as he dived for a miracle save. Taking the heat from racist neighbors and cops to keep someone else out of trouble, stepping in front of them and greeting others with a smile. Planting a community garden, his face streaked with dirt but satisfied as he stood up and high-fived Hunk, their work finished.

He’d lived such a full life. It made Keith wish that he was the one who was dead, and that Lance had lived. He wouldn’t have had anyone to leave behind.

Light warmed his face, and he looked out to see the sun peeking out from the clouds in the west, even as the last scatterings of storm clouds remained in the sky in the east. It was this kind of moment, when the sky was half-sun, half rain, that was more likely than any to make…

Yes, there it was, shining strong over the city, his rainbow road, pointing straight to the treasure at the end. Right to the most important thing in Keith’s life.

~

As soon as he opened the door, Lance was there, his face contorted with worry. “YOU’RE ALRIGHT!”

He launched himself at Keith, arms spread wide, sudden enough to make Keith freeze. But he phased right through him, appearing out the other side.

The moment it happened, Keith shivered, from the sudden shock of cold, or from the static electricity that traveled across his skin as Lance tumbled through him, falling onto the floor behind him in a heap of long limbs.

“Oops,” Lance grumbled, clambering back to his feet. “God, I was so worried! What were you _thinking,_ running outside in that crap?! Just because you found out that I didn’t die here alone, doesn’t mean you should go running off into a storm!” He paused, looking hurt. “Besides, I thought you said you weren’t gonna believe the story from anyone but me.”

Keith’s chest contracted, and he sat down on the loveseat, wondering how long he’d be able to hold all of this in. “It wasn’t about… asking him how you died. I just… felt like if I couldn’t trust Shiro, then there’s no one in this world I _can_. I was… scared.”

Lance sat down next to him, his voice suddenly soft again, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Before he could stop himself, Keith heard a gasp escape his lips, internally cursing that damn rainbow for reminding him how much of a fucking disaster gay he was.

“You can trust _me_.”

All of the tension in his body evaporated. Melted away, like it had never been there. As if Lance’s lack of weight could even pull away all that Keith had been carrying.

“Yeah. I can.”

Lance watched as Blue jumped on the arm of the loveseat, considering the two boys as they sat next to each other, obviously wondering which lap she could sit on. Eventually, she compromised, draping herself across Keith’s knees, and resting her head deliberately on Lance’s leg, purring eagerly.

Lance smiled sadly, reaching down and stroking her head with a single finger, his other arm stretched out over the backrest, behind Keith’s shoulders. “I died because I was stupid,” he finally said.

“Lance--”

“No no, just listen. That’s not the reason I’m still here. It’s because I was supposed to be keeping my sister’s baby safe. I was _supposed_ to be watching her.”

He swallowed, forcing the words out a little at a time, even though Keith could already see the glittering drops forming in his eyes.

“I adored baby Juanita. Veronica always said that she could trust me with her anytime. So when the rest of my family was moving out to the west coast, and I was staying here to go to college, Veronica left her baby with me, until they got everything moved in.”

_Juanita Santiago, 8 months, found dead at…_

“I forgot just how quickly she’d learned to walk… I… I only thought I’d leave her alone for a few seconds. It sounds so irresponsible when I say it, but… I really thought it would only be a few minutes at the most.”

“But?”

“I heard shouting outside. One of the cops… Shiro’s old partner… he was in an argument with Mateo. I knew Mateo had ADHD, didn’t always know when to shut up. I was afraid that the cop was gonna get trigger-happy. I had to do something.”

_There had been a dispute between a teenage Latino boy and one of the other cops, and Lance had come out to settle things down._

"When I ran outside, Juanita was playing with her toys. Blocks, chews… basic baby-safe stuff. She would always play until she conked out. So I hurried out in my pajamas, got between the cop and Mateo. I guess it had started with him being out after curfew, so I promised the officer I’d get him home myself, so he wouldn’t have to worry."

He took a shaky breath, the tears running fully down his translucent cheeks and distorting his words. “I walked him home. Made him swear not to stay late. And then I ran back here as fast as I could, realizing how long I’d been gone. It was… it was too late.”

Keith wished he could reach out, could take his hand, brush the tears off of his face, something besides watch and listen helplessly. “Lance, you don’t have to tell me everything at once. It’s okay.”

“No,” Lance sputtered. “I have to… I have to finish what I started.”

Keith was about to protest, but reconsidered, shutting his jaw and resting his hand on Blue’s back, as if he could comfort Lance by comforting the cat that had belonged to him. That still did.

“I couldn’t find her anywhere, and I realized just how many stupid things I’d done. Like leave the door to the balcony open. Just for some fresh air, y’know? Because it was the middle of winter, but we were having a warm spell. It was nice that day. But I couldn’t find her. I ran downstairs, to see if she’d fallen, but she wasn’t there, either. I didn’t know what I should do, or if I should call the cops. I was too panicked to think.

“I ran back upstairs… I looked for her everywhere. Even in the cupboards. In my room… she was passed out cold. Hunk had been by earlier, fixing one of the ethernet plugs. Something with the phone jack. He’d left the spare screws out… and I said I was going to clean them up for him before he left. It wasn’t his fault. It _wasn’t_ Hunk’s fault.”

“It’s okay, you told me that before. I believe you.”

Lance paused, absorbing Keith’s words, before looking down at Blue’s head, already fallen through his lap. “I was just gonna clean it up when I heard the yelling. I left it out… I _left it out_ , and Juanita choked on it. She was halfway behind the wardrobe, and she wasn’t moving and I just… I just _lost it._ I didn’t know what to do. I tried calling 911, but my phone wasn’t working. I was desperate. I needed it. I grabbed the old house phone and tried jabbing its cord back in, but I couldn’t reach. It was behind the wardrobe. I pushed it with my shoulder. A little further, a little further…”

_The wardrobe._

“It… tipped over?”

Lance nodded, his fingers disappearing into Blue’s fur. “It was falling toward Juanita. I jumped forward to push her out of the way. I was fast enough for her, but…”

“But not fast enough for you,” Keith finished, closing his eyes and watching the scene play out on the backs of his eyelids. “You were pinned?”

Lance shook his head. “It broke my spine. I couldn’t move. No one knew… anything. I tried calling for help, but it was hard to breathe. Eventually, my body just gave up. Whether it was from thirst or just because I didn’t have enough air, I don’t know. But it was a few days of that. Not a few hours after I felt everything stop… Mateo’s mom came in. I’d left the door unlocked.”

He stopped, collapsing forward, cradling Blue’s head to himself. “She was just coming by to thank me for keeping her son safe, and instead what she found was a pair of dead Alvarez. All because I was stupid. So if you want to laugh, go ahead.”

Keith’s breath hitched, and he felt himself reach forward, to Lance’s hand, his face, feeling nothing on his skin, angry at the universe for taking away even this boy’s ability to feel comfort. “Lance, why would I _laugh?!_ ”

“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“Lance, you were just trying to help someone. You couldn’t have known.”

“But Juanita died because of it.”

“And Mateo could have died if you _hadn’t_. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“It’s _not_ your fault,” Keith replied adamantly, leaning over so that he could catch Lance’s gaze. “If anyone blames you for it, then they’re wrong, and I’ll… I’ll fight them myself. Even Shiro, if I have to.”

Lance coughed a laugh, wiping the ghostly tears with his pajama sleeve and sitting up. “I don’t want you to fight anyone, Keith. I guess I stayed on Earth because I just… I just wanted to tell Veronica that I was sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more careful. But… when she and my family came here to get my stuff… I was too scared. As soon as I saw her face, I thought of Juanita and I… I panicked.”

Keith reached up, holding his hand in the air where Lance’s back would be, even if he felt no resistance there. “I’ll help you.”

“You will?”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl I cried like eight times while I was writing this holy shit I'm sorry everyone.
> 
> Some notes about the storm: This is real stuff in the upper Midwest of the United States, for those who don't live there. They may not be hurricanes, but at least a few times a summer we'll get these super awful storms that basically sweep through, fuck shit up, and then leave, within only a few hours. I'm talking tornado-spawning storms. On the annual. So for anyone who thinks this storm doesn't sound realistic? It is. Trust me. (fun fact: tornadoes are my absolute worst fear)
> 
> Also, unless I explicitly state otherwise in the story, assume any of my stories takes place somewhere in the Midwest, because that's the place I know the best. :P


	10. Hunting

The next few days were… quiet, to summarize it in a single word. Lance was still recovering from releasing all of those secrets, and Keith was still trying to absorb all that he had learned. In the meantime, they more or less left each other alone to deal with their burdens their own way. There were only so many places to go in the small apartment, but somehow they managed it. Maybe simply because Keith had grown so used to Lance’s presence that he couldn’t imagine living there without him.

Still, in the daylight hours after returning from work, Keith found it difficult to fall asleep. He was just as exhausted as ever, but his mind was spinning too much to slip into its usual unconsciousness, his heart aching. He remembered what he had told Shiro, in his moment of desperation, confusion and madness. _I’ve never felt this way._

He’d known for a while that his attraction leaned toward boys, men, but they were mere ideas, a conscious understanding. But this was different. He was twisted between two intensely strong, but opposite desires: the first, to always stay with him, no matter how. The second, to wipe all guilt and sadness from Lance’s heart forever, so that he would only ever be happy, even if it meant he would disappear from Keith’s life forever. Either one was an irresistible greed, to hold all of Lance’s smiles and laughs to himself.

Even when he did sleep, he would dream of Lance’s story, of watching the events playing out in front of his eyes, the pain, the agony, the panic, and he would wake up in a cold sweat, the sheets tangled around him and his heart pounding.

The last time it happened, he woke up to see Lance sitting in the air next to the bed, one hand reaching toward his face, drawn back as soon as he had sat up. He gasped for breath, drawn to the concern on Lance’s face. “What… what are you doing?” he asked the ghost.

“I… you were having a nightmare… again. I was just… checking to see if you were okay.”

Keith looked again at Lance’s outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow. “Were you… touching me?”

Lance bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling guiltily. “Well, y’know… I just figured, since I’m pretty cold, it might help you cool down a bit. Sorry if touching you creeps you out, I get it--”

“No, it’s… okay,” Keith answered, his heart rate beginning to get back under control. “It felt… nice.”

Lance looked at him again, reaching out hesitantly, resting a cool hand against Keith’s forehead, frowning. “Do you have a fever? I always got bad nightmares when I was sick.”

“Maybe I do,” Keith replied, although to be honest, he just liked Lance touching his face, even if it felt more like being out in cold winter air.

“You gotta take better care of yourself. I mean, it kind of sucks that I’m stuck with _you_ as the only person that can help me, but if you go down and out I’m stuck here forever. So, y’know… don’t do that.”

_I always felt like it would be fine, maybe even a good thing if I just… vanished one day. There’s no one to miss me, anyway._

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

~

A few days later, everything shifted.

Now that he had come to terms with his feelings, Keith couldn’t help but want to reach out to Lance, to understand him better, maybe even… get closer. But Lance was having none of it.

“Do you think we would have been friends if we went to the same high school?”

“What, me? With you? Nooo no way. You probably would’ve tried to mug me for my lunch money or something.”

“I was _not_ a schoolyard bully!”

Or when Keith was combing his hair after a shower and Lance popped in, commenting on how nobody looked good with a mullet.

“I thought you said I was pretty?”

Lance looked disgusted. “What?! When would I say _that_?”

“When we first met?! You were hanging from the ceiling and said--”

“Nope, don’t remember, never happened.”

It was as if all of the softness during Lance’s vulnerability had disappeared, and he was retreating inward, far away from anything Keith tried. It left him confused and irritated, more than usual. He wanted _so much_ to be inside Lance’s inner world, more than he had ever wanted anything. He didn’t like feeling so… shut out. Not when, for the first time, he was actually trying to get _in_.

But when occasionally, Keith would come in as Lance was playing with Blue, with that sad smile on his face, the reality would come crashing down on him. Lance had far too much emotional baggage for Keith to force his own feelings onto him. It would only make things worse. What Lance needed was his family.

In as much free time as he had, Keith sat down with his computer, searching the internet for clues, having difficulty finding the Alvarez family… mainly because there were _so_ many Alvarez. Even just narrowing it down to the “west coast” wasn’t particularly helpful.

Eventually, he caved and asked Shiro for help, that maybe he could pull some strings at the police force.

“It’s not easy to search for people not wanted for anything, especially so far outside of our jurisdiction, but… if we get any tips, I’ll let you know,” Shiro had assured him.

Otherwise, the search was pretty much dead in the water. Lance apparently didn’t know the address they had moved to, and the things he had written it down in had been removed after his death. So basically, he wasn’t much help at all.

“Why don’t you just… ask around the community?” Lance suggested, flopped on the loveseat so that his head was near the floor and his feet rested on the back. “ _Someone_ probably knows where they went.”

At this, Keith squirmed. He tended to avoid people as much as possible, especially new ones. His experiences with strangers tended to turn out badly. Just like Shiro had said, the last thing Keith needed was to get in more trouble.

Thankfully, Lance saved him from explaining this. “Wait… you don’t speak Spanish. That’s probably gonna be a problem unless you just talk to the kids.”

Keith’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up to see a message from Pidge. “Hunk and I have been working on some stuff. Wanna come chat?”

Another buzz, and a second message: “at the diner a couple blocks from where you live. Just show up if you feel like it.”

Keith tossed the phone aside, returning to his research, but Lance caught it before it hit the other cushion, frowning at the message. “What, you’re not gonna go?”

Keith focused on the screen in front of him. “I’m _busy_.”

“Aw, come _on_ ,” Lance groaned, swinging his legs through Keith’s abdomen as he sat up. “Get a _life_ , man.”

Keith glared at him out of the side of his eye. “I’m busy helping _you_ find your family. I thought that’s what you wanted?”

Lance shrugged. “Well yeah, but I mean, I just _feel bad_ watching you. I would go nuts if I lived a life as boring as you do. No friends… no fun... “

Keith snapped the laptop screen closed, dropping the computer through Lance’s lap and onto the cushion of the loveseat. “Okay, fine, _you_ do your own research, and I’ll go listen to conspiracy theories, if you’re so bored of me being around!”

“Great! It’s more fun when you’re not here, anyway!

Keith shoved his feet into his shoes and stomped out the door, completely unaware of the way Lance smiled after him, as if he’d achieved something wonderful.

“Have fun with Hunk. He’s a good guy.”

~

Lunch/dinner/whatever-it-was wasn’t anything particularly special, with Pidge and Hunk revealing themselves to have been in near-constant contact ever since they’d met, completely re-vamping Pidge’s ghost-detector tech. Keith listened and tried to absorb as much as he could as he wolfed down his burger and fries, suddenly aware of how incredibly hungry he had been. He’d been focusing so hard on the search, he hadn’t even thought about getting food.

“Having Lance as our case study has both pros and cons,” Pidge was saying. “Pro: thanks to Hunk, we know exactly what his personality, likes and dislikes were when he was alive. Con: _because_ we know these things, it’ll be hard to generalize some of our observations to the rest of the population.”

“Especially without any electromagnetic phenomena,” Hunk piped up. “Hey Pidge, you ever heard of those ghost lights in Michigan? How they turned out to just be headlights?” He started laughing, and Pidge sulked.

“Yes, _Hunk._ I have heard of them. Also that the floating lights in swamps that supposedly lead people to their deaths are just glowing gases given off by decomposing plant matter.”

Keith perked up, drinking his milkshake thoughtfully. “How many cases have you actually investigated yourself?”

Pidge looked out the window, lost in thought. “I… dunno. I’ve been doing this ever since the first incident, but I didn’t get into it that deeply until I got into middle school.”

“Have you ever had anything… proven true?”

“No no no no wait,” Hunk interrupted, his cheeks still full of blueberry pancake, “in science we _never_ say the word ‘prove’. Unless we’re talking about proofs.” He shuddered. “I _hate_ proofs.”

“You _know_ what I meant,” Keith grumbled, nibbling on his straw.

Pidge sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Not… really. Even those times I was _pretty_ sure I saw a ghost, I couldn’t manage to get any evidence people wouldn’t claim was doctored. And… the older I got, the less I saw.”

“Hence the theory that children are more attuned to the supernatural,” Hunk added, twisting his straw wrapper around his finger. “Though I’m more of a bigfoot enthusiast myself.”

“What, you _actually_ believe in a giant ape-man wandering around the American North?!” Pidge scoffed.

“Hey, it’s not any less believable than ghosts, okay? And we know that ghosts are real, so… what _else_ could be out there!”

Keith shyly raised his hand. “So… do you think that aliens are real? Or were we just mistaking aliens for ghosts the whole time?”

Both geniuses fell silent for a while, before exploding into a wild debate of conspiracy theories, archeological history, and logical explanations for everything ranging from the curse of King Tut’s tomb to the mystery of the Loch Ness Monster.

“I’m just _saying,_ even with radar scans, it’s impossible to know the extent of the lake bottom!”

“It’s a _lake!_ There are only so many places it could hide!”

Even Keith found himself swept up in the debate-bordering-on-argument when they got to the Roswell alien sightings, when Pidge whipped out her phone and showed pictures of weather balloons and tests at the time, since he agreed with Hunk that there were other weird things about the event (he’d had kind of an alien phase in middle school).

He didn’t even realize how long they’d been talking until Pidge’s phone went off on full ringtone, earning them some dirty looks from some other customers. It was already dark outside. Thankfully, it was the weekend, so he didn’t have to go to work, but…

“Wait, really?!” Pidge jumped to her feet, her phone pressed to her ear. “That’s nearby!”

Keith and Hunk exchanged glances, and then blinked up at her. She waved them away, listening closely. “Okay, yeah, we’ll meet you there, Matt!”

She jammed the phone into her back pocket, then shoveled the remainder of her meal into her mouth. “Come on, you guys! Matt just got a tip about ghost activity at the old town hall!”

She dug into her backpack and procured a few dollar bills, throwing them onto the table and then sliding her bag onto her shoulders. “Come _on!_ We have to get there before someone else does!”

“Woah woah woah, what’s the _we_?!” Hunk argued, shrinking into the corner of the booth. “No no no no, I never agreed to ghost hunting. I mean, Lance is one thing. Lance is safe. Familiar. A little crazy, but no more than he was when he was alive. I’m not going hunting! I choose life!”

“I thought you said you were interested in this stuff?!” Pidge shot back.

“Well… yeah, in _theory_. From a safe distance. Like… _nowhere near_ an actual ghost.”

She huffed, then started off toward the door. “Fine. Well, I’m going whether you come with me or not.”

Keith got the gut feeling that letting her go off by herself was probably a bad idea. Even if the ghost wasn’t a problem, he didn’t think it was that safe for a 15-year-old to be running around alone in the middle of the night.

They’d paid the bill an hour before, but he hurried to pay the remainder of the tip, then grabbed Hunk by the collar and said, “come on, big guy, let’s go after her.”

“What?! No!”

“If there _is_ something, then we can all run away together, alright?!”

Not that Keith would admit that his real motivation was the excitement, the blood pulsing in his ears, head swirling with possibilities of what “ghostly activity” meant in this case. He was curious. And… he’d never really gotten used to _not_ getting into trouble.

~

“Matt!” Pidge called out. The silhouetted figure peeking into the window of the building turned, greeting them with a smile that definitely matched Pidge’s.

“Hey! These your new friends?”

“Yeah. Hunk, Keith, meet my brother, Matt.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he replied, nodding to both of them. “You here for some ghost hunting?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” Hunk answered at the same time.

They looked at each other, but Matt frowned and looked back inside. “Okay, so the story goes that one of our long-serving councilmen once had an illicit relationship with a woman, back when this was the town hall. She then died of birth complications, said to be in having _his_ child. Don’t know if the story’s true, but the tip said that after the councilman came back to get some old books and documents from his desk, suddenly _weird_ stuff started happening, like books falling off of shelves, letters appearing on his desk that weren’t there before… I don’t know who the tip was, but they sounded freaked out. It might be good this time!”

Behind him, Keith could hear Hunk shivering. He ignored it, peering into the shadows inside. “Have you seen anything?”

“No… but I was waiting for Katie to get here before I went into depth. Hey, can you grab the EM reader from inside the bag?”

Keith did as told, then handed it to him, still peering inside. “This is a public building?”

Matt nodded. “It’s been decommissioned as the town hall, but they still have community events and stuff here. Open all hours. So if we decide to go in and take a closer look…” he grinned at Keith over his shoulder.

“We won’t be doing anything illegal.”

Pidge grinned wickedly. “Let’s do it.”

~

It was dark inside, and fairly empty. Sets of tables and chairs lined the floor, and a few ribbons and plaques decorated the walls, but otherwise, it was empty.

Pidge turned on the EM reader, which began pinging, beeping at different speeds as she waved it back and forth. She handed it to Hunk, who practically hid behind it, and then reached into her own backpack to retrieve the modified video camera.

“Okay, we’re recording,” she whispered.

Keith went ahead of the rest, swinging his flashlight to and fro as he investigated, his heart racing. A door… to the offices of the councilmen, no doubt.

He laid his hand on the cold metal of the doorknob, turning it slowly, wincing at the loud creak the heavy wooden door produced as it swung inward.

Doors on either side, marked with name plaques, most of which had been removed. Bathrooms, one on the right, one on the left. But, based on the worn spots on the hardwood floor, very few people walked past the bathrooms.

He walked forward cautiously, searching for anything out of the ordinary. A blast of cold, a flash of dimly-glowing translucent skin… something like Lance.

Behind him, he heard the EM reader begin to beep louder. “Uh… Keith…” Hunk warned, just as Keith’s flashlight flickered, and then went out.

_A dim bluish glow._

“There!” he shouted, pointing at the bit of dress disappearing through one of the doors.

“What?! Where?!” Pidge replied excitedly, waving her own flashlight around in all directions.

A woman appeared in the rafters, looking down at them, although she was too far away for Keith to try to read her expression. “There! There she is!” She wore a hospital gown, but carried it elegantly, frowning down at the party.

The others followed his gaze, even shining their flashlights up at her. “Where?! I don’t see her!” Matt shouted.

The ghost hid her eyes behind her arm, as if blinded, and the others only stared up at her in confusion.

They couldn’t see her.

Keith was the only one who could see her.

He stared up at her, wondering what he should do now. If he should say something, try to talk to her. But this ghost wasn’t Lance. He didn’t know what to say.

“Um, great, there’s a ghost here, real cool. So I’m gonna go now…” Hunk stated, moving toward the door they had entered from.

Slowly, the ghost stared down at Keith, drifting down from the rafters, meeting his gaze as she slowly, slowly, raised her hand toward the door.

“Hunk, stop!”

Red and blue lights, flashing outside the windows.

“SCATTER!” Matt shouted, running full-speed toward the farthest window and shoving it open, throwing his backpack out first, and then scrambling after it.

“Come on, let’s go!” Pidge shouted, grabbing Keith by the arm and pulling him after her. Keith managed to snatch Hunk’s arm, too, just in time for him to get yanked forward, trailing through the town hall in a snake line, disappearing into the back hallway of rooms and slamming the door shut behind them just as the main entrance exploded open, official-sounding voices echoing through the space.

“It doesn’t look like anything’s been stolen…”

“But the report said it seemed like someone was breaking in…”

“Why would they break in when they can just come right in?”

“But no one turned on the lights.”

They went silent for a while, before the officer closer to the door muttered, “you think it’s those ghost-hunting kids again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.”

Keith had a hand over Hunk’s mouth, keeping him from screaming. He looked at Pidge, silently asking her, _what do we do now?!_

She looked around, uncertain, and Keith was pretty sure they were going to get caught. But then, the ghost, again.

She appeared through one of the doors, looking at Keith uncertainly.

“You can see me?” she asked in a low voice.

He nodded. Hunk and Pidge followed his gaze, but didn’t seem to see anything.

The ghost swallowed, then pulled a sealed envelope from behind her back. “Please.”

Keith took it, looking down at the neat-looking handwriting. But there was no time to look closely-- he could hear the police officers coming closer, and see Pidge’s eyes widening with panic.

“Do you think we should just call officer Shirogane right away?”

“Nah, the guy hasn’t slept in like… three weeks. Give ‘im a break. We can take care of a couple of kids.”

The ghost looked at the door, then back at Keith. She gestured for him to follow her, and he did, pulling the other two after him. He opened a door, finding himself below the sign for an emergency exit. The ghost smiled at him, pointing forward.

“Thanks,” he whispered, before pushing the door open and taking off running.

“What was that?!” he heard from behind him. “Is that the ghost?!”

“What, no, of course not! The culprits are running!”

And running they were… straight into a drainage ditch still full of leaves and water from the storm. They tumbled through, the muddy water soaking into Keith’s black jeans. The flashing blue and red lights of the cop cars faded into the distance as he pushed himself to keep running, listening carefully to the sound of Hunk and Pidge’s footsteps behind him.

They kept running until neither the light nor sound of the police could be perceived, and they no longer had the air in their lungs nor power in their legs to continue running.

Finally, they skidded to a stop at the back of a drugstore, collapsing into a pile.

“I am never. Doing. That. Again,” Hunk gasped, lurching as Pidge fell onto his belly.

But Keith looked down at the letter in his hands and felt… ecstatic. “That was… insane!” he announced, shaking his head. And… laughing. “We could’ve gotten arrested!”

And before he knew it, they were all laughing. Collapsed in a pile in the shadow of a suspicious drugstore, and laughing like idiots.

~

He was still plenty hopped up on adrenaline when he pushed open the door to the apartment, although his heartbeat slowed a bit when he saw Lance already sitting on the loveseat, Blue sitting in his lap.

“You wouldn’t _believe_ what happened!” he shouted, collapsing onto the loveseat and kicking off his shoes. He launched into the story, about the chase, and Matt jumping out the window, and the ghost helping him, and then running, and tripping, and Hunk getting a face full of wet leaves, and how they were all so gross and he needed to take a shower, but…

“It was… fun,” he finished, shocked by his own words. “Insane, but… fun.”

Finally, now that his story was over, he felt himself calm down, enough to actually let Lance speak. He looked up at him, not noticing until just then how much he’d been unconsciously leaning toward him, so close that their shoulders would have been touching, were Lance not a ghost.

But Lance just smiled at him, unlike any of the self-absorbed grins that Keith had seen before, but no emotion Keith knew how describe. “See? I told you so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Matt's "SCATTER" is a John Mulaney reference


	11. Lance's List

“Well, it doesn’t seem to be cursed…” Allura stated, handing the yet-unopened envelope back to Keith.

He frowned down at it, still hesitant to open it, even now that he was sure nothing bad was going to happen if he did.

He ran his thumb over the folded edge, sealed down to the underside of the envelope, wondering what kind of secret was held inside the yellowed paper, whether it was even intended for him to read.

“I don’t really know what to do with this,” he said, leaning against the street stall. “I think she gave it to me just because I could see her, not because she meant it specifically for me. But that’s why… I dunno if I should read it.”

He flipped it over, reading the carefully-written cursive on the front.

“ _To Councilman Norvak, from Jennifer Louise.”_

It fit the urban legend about an illicit relationship that Matt had described, but his knowledge of the story didn’t go any further than that. He didn’t really pay attention to the city councilmen, but based on the age of the envelope, this whole thing had happened at least ten years ago, probably more.

Allura sighed, leaning against the stand next to him. “Having the powers I do, I’ve always believed it was my duty to help guide lost souls through their struggles, but… you don’t have the same responsibility. If you want, I can take it from you.”

Keith swallowed, then shook his head, pulling the envelope close to himself. “No. I… I have to do this. It shouldn’t be too difficult, right? Just get it to the person it was addressed to.”

“You’re sure?”

He looked away from her, straightening. “I might as well.”

~

He’d hoped to talk to the ghost one more time, to ask her what he should do, but when he returned to the old town hall, the door was padlocked, joined by a sign reading “due to nighttime activities, the town requires reservations in advance before use. Please request the key at the new town hall, or call the town secretary for reservations at…”

He looked through the glass, wondering if he could spy the ghost from outside, but the daytime glare was pretty substantial, blinding him to the inside of the building.

He could always just jimmy one of the windows-- or even break one-- but he wasn’t quite that desperate. He’d just have to make an official petition.

~

Lance watched curiously as Keith paced through the apartment, making phone calls, writing e-mails, even hand-writing a letter to the city council, asking for a personal audience with Councilman Norvak.

“No, no, I don’t want to see his assistant. I think this is a matter important enough for me to see him myself. No-- hello?”

He glanced at the phone screen, blinking an “ended call” notification at him, and tossed the phone onto the loveseat, following it down in frustration.

He covered his eyes with his arm, sinking his head into the cushion.

From above the armrest, he heard Lance’s voice: “Why’re you so determined to help this lady? You don’t even know her. She’s a complete stranger to you.”

Keith dropped his arm, looking up at Lance’s face where the ghost was leaning over him, the way his eyebrows tapered downwards in concern, remembering the expression he had worn when he had told his own story, remembering the glimmering waterless tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You were a stranger to me, too,” Keith answered, fighting the urge to reach up and pull the ghost closer, if he could. “I guess… I just feel like… if I can help one ghost, then I can help you, too.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up, and he floated backwards, straightening up. “I thought you used to be a delinquent? When did you become so focused on helping others?”

Keith shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe someone is rubbing off on me.”

~

“Alright, Kogane, I’ve agreed to see you. But I’ve only got fifteen minutes, so use them wisely.”

Councilman Norvak laced his fingers together at his desk, looking up at Keith impatiently. “Well?”

Taking a deep breath, Keith pulled the old envelope out of his jacket pocket and set it on the desk, still trying to figure out how to make him believe his story.

“I was… exploring the old town hall a while back and I… found this. My petition was to make the old building fully public again, but really… I just wanted to give this to you.” He gave a curt nod, then turned, eager to get out of there now that his business was done.

“Hold on a minute!” the councilman barked, stopping Keith in his tracks.

“Yes?”

“Who do you think you are, coming in here and giving me useless junk! I’m not reading some stupid old letter!” His voice cracked on the last word, his face reddening strikingly against his gray-white hair.

He recognized the letter. It was obvious from his expression, from the panic in his voice. He was afraid of it.

“Sir… it’s addressed to you. It can’t hurt to read it.”

“I’m not taking orders from some teenage punk,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“Aren’t you a representative of the town? I know that you were first elected more than thirty years ago, but… that Jennifer Louise person had something to say to you. I don’t know what-- I never opened it. I just thought… she wanted me to give it to you.”

The councilman looked at the letter venomously, then gingerly reached out to pick it up, as if it were going to bite him. Slowly, he pulled it open, the aged glue coming apart easily under his fingertips.

He pulled the letter out, his eyes scanning quickly over its contents. The further he read, though, the more color left his face. Finally, he threw the letter to the ground, jolting to his feet, livid. “Get out of my office! I never want to see you or your stupid letters again!”

Keith jumped, picking the letter up from where the councilman had thrown it, scurrying out of the office before the councilman decided to take up matters with the police.

He shoved it back into his jacket pocket as he hurried out of the building, wondering what exactly it said that had enraged the councilman so, or if it would be something he could use against him.

He hadn’t done anything illegal, had he? He’d gone through all of the proper channels, hadn’t made enough phone calls or e-mails for it to be considered harassment… hadn’t done anything threatening… was this just one more thing he was going to get punished for, that he had never thought was wrong?

It wasn’t until he was safely on the bus leaving the new town hall, heading back to his own neighborhood, that he finally retrieved the letter from his pocket, feeling like it was okay to read its contents now that it had reached its desired recipient.

The further he read, the more his heart sank.

Whoever Matt’s source had been, they’d been right on the money. An illicit affair, a bastard child… but that wasn’t what dug at him.

_“Through all of our time together, I truly loved you. You were always so sweet to me, I wondered if it were possible for a man as kind as you to exist. You made me feel as if I was made of diamond, of ruby, of emerald, as if even an average woman like me could take on the world, as long as I had you by my side.”_

Keith clenched the paper tighter, his throat filling with bile.

_“I was so frightened when you told me to get rid of the baby. You weren’t the same man I knew, in that moment, who cherished life. This same man had worked so hard to outlaw abortion in the city. Where was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to do?_

_I’ve made an appointment with a small-practice doctor, who has agreed to do the procedure secretly. This letter is probably on the way to you as I sit on his table._

_You told me that you never want to see me again, and in that moment, I realized how much more you cherished your council seat than you ever had me. Once this operation is over, I’ll leave, but not for your sake. I know the memories will be too painful. But I wanted you to know, before I left, how much I truly had loved you, even knowing the awful thing I was doing…”_

Keith set the letter down, squeezing his eyes shut. So that was why the councilman had freaked out. The letter was evidence of his sin. Disgusting, that a man like him had stayed in power so long. And a pity, that the ghost woman had been taken in by him.

The operation must not have gone well.

She’d sent him the letter, and he’d never read it, letting it sit in his office unopened, even going so far as to move to a new building before he’d ever acknowledged his failure. That’s why the ghost had only appeared when he’d come back to the old building for some documents. She just wanted him to know.

~

Even with the whole thing over, and Allura assuring him that the woman’s spirit had passed on, Keith felt… unsettled. Thoughts, doubts, memories clouded his head any time he tried to concentrate, and he’d have to force himself to work harder, to move faster, more deliberately, never giving himself enough time to think, because if he did, the old memories would come flooding in.

Jennifer Louise had never wanted the baby. She’d said as much in her letter, that she was glad that she was going to abort before it had the chance to know pain. Her only regret was that she had to do so in the shadows, because of her lover’s fear. _Love._

It made him wonder how it had all happened, what kind of lies the man had told her to convince her that he loved her, when he clearly didn’t. Not if he left her alone in some backwater hospital to do a surgery he wouldn’t publicly condone, and then wiped her presence from his life completely. That wasn’t love.

But what did _Keith_ know about love? Keith, whose mother had been out of his life so long he couldn’t remember her face, whose father had died when he was nine, whose every other memory of parents, siblings, and friends had been unpleasant? He didn’t know anything about trust, or love. His heart was too torn and pulverized to be able to recognize love anymore. Instead, it whispered to him that maybe the kind of love that the ghost must’ve had… might be all that there is.

And if that’s all the love there is, then maybe he was better off without it. If he could only convince his heart, his poor, stupid heart, to stop wanting it.

“Keith?”

He looked up from scrubbing the dishes viciously, the plate in his hand clattering into the sink as he met Lance’s concerned gaze. He chastised himself for the way his breath had hitched when the ghost boy had said his name, considering what he’d just been thinking.

“Are you… okay? Ever since you came back from meeting that ghost lady, you’ve been… weird.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Lance reached into the sink and picked up the plate, turning on the faucet and rinsing it, depositing it into the strainer, and then shutting the water off. “There. The cleaning’s done. Whatever is bothering you… you can tell me.”

A soft voice, gentle eyes, the endearing downward curve of his eyebrows as he gazed at Keith with so much concern… he fell for it, every single time. His walls tumbling down, armor dissolving, until he was left bare and fragile. It was frightening, for that weakness to come out so easily. How could he possibly protect himself from love if it broke down every barrier he put up against it in a single moment?

“She died having an abortion,” he finally answered, putting both hands onto the edge of the sink and leaning over it, watching the soapy water spiral down the drain. “She just… wanted him to know. Say goodbye. It made me think… about my mom.”

“Your mom?”

“I don’t… remember her. Why she left, or if she was happy… my dad talked about her sometimes, about how strong she was, but I don’t have anything to go on but his word. And ever since he died, I’ve just been so… so _angry_ , at everyone I’ve ever met, and I don’t know why I’m that way. Maybe… I’m naturally untrusting because… my mom left me. So instead of accepting people into my life, I… push them away before they reject me.”

He looked up, realizing just how much he’d said, reading it in the startled look in Lance’s eyes. “N-nevermind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“What? No no no, it’s okay. I just…” he shook his head, reconsidering his words. “Keith… you remember when you were trying to get me to tell you how I died, and you said that you wouldn’t believe it from anyone but me? That… that meant a lot to me. But it goes both ways, y’know? All of the crap that’s happened in your life… all the trouble you’ve gotten in… I won’t believe any of it unless it comes straight from you. And… you don’t have to tell me all at once.”

Down at his feet, Blue rubbed against his leg, chirrupping for attention, and Keith reached down and picked her up, carrying her to the loveseat and plopping onto the cushions, so that she rested on his chest, happily rubbing her head against his cheek. When she finally settled down on his ribcage, and Lance had drifted over until he was sitting next to him, Keith found his voice again.

The words spilled out of their own accord. The foster homes, the teachers, discovering he was gay and the bullies that inevitably followed. Learning to fight just to protect himself, then protect others. Meeting Shiro three years before, and the final fire he set.

“I guess a part of me thought that since my dad died in a fire, if I made one, he’d come back to me through it, or something.” he finished, still running his fingers through Blue’s fur. “I guess I just missed… having someone who actually acted like they _wanted_ me. Like I wasn’t just a mouth they had to feed.”

The whole time, Lance had sat silently, just listening to him talk, almost uncharacteristically for him. His eyebrows had risen at Keith’s admission about his sexuality, and Keith wondered if it would scare him off. But he was still there, intently focused on every word.

“Keith…” he finally said, “whoever your mother was… is… she probably wanted you, too. She must’ve. I don’t know why all of those people were so… mean to you. They can’t’ve been too smart, because anyone who wouldn’t want you in their lives is an idiot. I mean, you’re strong, and you work hard, and you helped kids, even if they didn’t thank you for it. That’s someone worth caring about. I may not be the smartest guy out there, but… though you drive me nuts with your emo crap, even I can tell that meeting you was a _good_ thing.”

Keith didn’t know what to say to that. Nothing that wouldn’t let on just how fragile he felt just then. But he did feel… happy.

“Thanks. I--” _Needed to hear that. Think meeting you was a good thing, too._ There were a bunch of ways he could think of to end that sentence. But instead: “...wanna just watch some TV right now. Something chill.”

Lance paused, then nodded knowingly and floated away to the bedroom, retrieving the computer, setting it onto the coffee table, and then returning immediately to his spot next to Keith. “I know some great cheesy slice-of-life anime that are great to watch if you just want to chill. Unless you’re like me and get _really_ into the love triangles.”

Keith snorted, still running his fingers through Blue’s fur as he watched Lance get the show up and running on Netflix. “I don’t think I’m gonna have that problem.”

~

Every slice-of-life anime has that dramatic moment sitting on the swings, and after a few hours of watching in comfort, listening to Lance’s comments about how frustrating it is that the main characters _obviously_ like each other because come on-- who stops what they’re doing _just_ to smile softly at someone they _don’t_ have a crush on? --this one came.

“I mean, I guess when it’s hard for you to even make friends, you probably don’t know the difference between friendliness and flirtation,” Lance admitted, crossing his legs in front of himself and resting his cheek on his hand, as the protagonist on screen was having a heart-to-heart chat with her new friends on the swingset. And then he sighed, pouting. “I miss doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Just… hanging out on the swings,” he replied, pausing the video. “My sister and I used to compete who could go higher, and then, when we got as high as we could, we’d jump off and see who went further. Twisted my ankle doing it one time-- thought my mom was gonna kill me, but… yeah. I haven’t just played like that since--”

“Why don’t you?”

Lance sat up, blinking at him. “Don’t I what?”

“Just go out and play on the swings? There are parks nearby and stuff. We could just go out and find one that has swings. Right now.”

Lance stared at him incredulously. “ _Now?!_ It’s the middle of the night!”

“I’m always awake at night anyway. And besides, it means there’ll be no one there.” He wasn’t sure why he was being so insistent about this. He just… wanted to do it.

“But…” Lance looked toward the bedroom door, and the wardrobe inside, that his soul was apparently tied to. “I can’t…”

Keith stood up, careful not to disturb Blue, who had moved from his chest to the back of the loveseat long before. “Have you ever tried?”

Lance hesitated still, and Keith went to the door, swinging it open and holding out his hand. “Come on, just give it a try. I’ll go with you.”

It was clear that Lance was afraid. Not that Keith blamed him. What happened if a ghost got too far from his physical tie? Did it hurt? Was there some kind of invisible wall, trapping them inside? He didn’t know, and he doubted that Lance did, either.

Slowly, Lance moved forward, staring down at the threshold of the doorway, then out at the parking lot below the outdoor hallway, and then at Keith, frowning and yet… eager. He was glowing a brighter blue than ever, shimmering vibrantly.

He stepped toward the doorway, then back again, considering his options, and then finally, gingerly lifted his hand into Keith’s, no more weight in Keith’s palm than a feather brushing against his skin, but it was enough.

Gently, he moved forward, pulling Lance through the doorway. One step, then another, until--

The door swung shut behind them, but the possibility before them was suddenly endless.

~

_Coran had just stepped through the shadow-gate for one of his regular check-ups on Lance, to ensure he hadn’t gone crazy or tried to hurt anyone, when he heard the two boys talking. He hesitated at the door from Keith’s bedroom, listening as the conversation took a surprising turn._

_“There are parks nearby and stuff. We could just go out and find one that has swings. Right now.”_

_He froze, wondering if he should stop this foolishness. He peeked around the doorframe, watching as Lance walked forward, a bit afraid, but thrumming with energy. More even than Coran had ever seen in him._

_Lance’s soul was bonded to the wardrobe, Coran knew. It was as if he was tied to it by an invisible rope, that would pull taut if he strayed too far. If he tried to leave._

_Lance took the living boy’s hand, stepping through the doorway, across the threshold, the door slipping shut behind him, and leaving the apartment dark and empty, save the large gray cat and the laptop forgotten on the coffee table, still open to the paused show they were watching._

_Coran watched the boys’ shadows pass the window and frowned to himself, not knowing if this development-- this change-- was ultimately going to be a good thing, or a bad thing. Either way, it certainly meant that Lance was hurtling down a path he wasn’t going to be able to return from._

_He could stop this now, force it to stop, if he wanted. But… he’d never been a particularly harsh reaper. He wanted Lance to have a happy ending. It could only really end one way, of course, but… he’d help make it as happy as he could, in the meantime._

_He shook his head, moved forward to give the cat an affectionate pat, then turned back to the wall, opening up a new shadow-gate, and moving forward to his next appointment._

~

Of course, it was probably best that they did this in the middle of the night, because otherwise there would be way too many people weirded out by the swing mysteriously moving rapidly back and forth on its own. But Keith could hear Lance’s excited yelling echoing through the empty park, watch his eyes sparkle as he rose higher and higher into the air, although Keith doubted the movement of the swing was caused by the momentum of his legs, like swinging normally was, so much as it was the little gusts of wind Lance seemed able to create.

“Come on, Keith! I can go higher than you!” he jeered, like a kindergartener, grinning as he whipped by.

“Oh, you’re on,” Keith replied, pushing his legs faster, leaning into the movement of the swing and going higher, higher, higher, the wind grabbing at his hair and clothes, carrying the sound of Lance’s voice to his ears. He looked over at Lance, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his cheeks. “You ready?” he asked, already loosening his grip on the chains.

“Me? What about _you?_  You could actually get hurt, you know!” Lance shouted back, but Keith was already throwing his weight forward, launching out of the swing and into the open air. For a brief moment, he was weightless, until he came crashing down toward the ground, his feet hitting the sand and then buckling underneath him, until he came rolling to a stop. Moments later, Lance came flying toward him, laughing maniacally and disappearing half into the dirt before coming back up, as if he’d fallen into a pool of water instead of a pit of sand.

He sprawled out next to Keith, still grinning. “Aw man, I missed that!”

The evening had dampened the air, and the ground under Keith was wet, soaking into his clothes. He didn’t care. He felt the heaving of his chest, the ache in his legs, and remembered, long ago, when his dad had taught him how to swing, jokingly challenging him, just like Lance had. Keith didn’t remember it being quite so tiring.

“Haaaahhhh,” Lance sighed, looking up at the mostly-starless night sky. “I never realized just how trapped I felt. Thanks, Keith.”

Keith felt color rise in his cheeks, and looked up at the moon to avoid staring at Lance’s gleeful smile. “You don’t have to thank me.” He waited for his breath to steady, then ran his fingers through the dew-covered grass at his head, his mind spinning. “Are there other things like this?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked, lifting his hands over his shoulders and leaning his head back onto them, even though none of the movement disturbed so much as a single blade of grass.

“Things you miss doing from when you were you were alive. Or even things you wanted to do before you died, but never got the chance?”

“What, like a bucket list?” Lance turned his head to look at Keith, seeing him nod, then looked back up at the sky. “Yeah, I guess. Not like… written down or anything, but I think everyone has those kinds of things.”

Keith sat up, leaning back on his hands. “We could do some of them, you know. Nothing big or expensive, but… since you’re still here, it couldn’t hurt to try it before you… you know,” _before you pass on._

Lance contemplated this, still looking up at the stars. “...like half an hour ago, I didn’t think I could even leave the apartment. I feel like if I ask for too much more, I’m just being greedy.”

“If you ask for the moon on your plate or a trip to a Beyonce concert, _then_ you’re being greedy,” Keith replied.

“What?! Come on, Beyonce concert was like number three on my list!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “What are numbers one and two?”

Lance was silent for a while, then appeared in Keith’s view, grinning. “We’ll work up to Beyonce concert, and then maybe I’ll tell you about the top two.”

Keith felt his heart skip a beat at the stupidly excited grin on Lance’s face, and resigned himself to his fate, knowing in that moment that he would do absolutely anything to see that smile as often as possible.

~

*Pick the cherries off of the cherry trees along Main Street before the city just throws them all away*

“So how much trouble do you think we’ll get in?” Lance asked, sitting in the the branches and tossing cherries down into the bucket Keith was holding.

“We? No one can _see_ you, Lance. _You_ won’t get in any trouble. Just me.”

“Huh.” He tossed down another fistful of cherries with surprisingly good accuracy. “Does this count as stealing? Like is there a law against this?”

“I think so. Don’t ask me; I’m the one who used to break it all the time.”

“ _Riiiight_ … so the people watching us doing this, d’you think they’re calling the police?” Lance asked, drifting effortlessly through the tree and into the next one. Keith followed him, holding the bucket up with his other hand, since it was starting to get heavy.

He looked around at the nearby citizenry, who could all pretty easily see Keith, at least, since it was the middle of the afternoon. They sat at their fancy cafes, eating expensive salad and sipping overpriced coffee, or chatting with each other as they went window-shopping. Only a few of them seemed to even notice Keith underneath the small trees, although those that did were definitely giving him weird looks.

“I think they’re just freaked out by me talking to myself,” he suggested. “No… wait, someone’s coming over here. Abort mission!”

Lance floated down from the tree and the two of them took off, the cherries jumbling away inside the bucket as they ran.

~

*At Hunk’s house*

“Honestly, those cherries are more pit than pulp, so they took me forever to process, but…” Hunk slid a freshly-baked cherry pie onto the table, looking a bit proud of himself. Which he should, since it was beautiful. The top crust was carefully cut into a design of overlapping stars, so that the bright red of the cherry pie filling was visible from above. Not to mention the sparkle of the sugar that the pie had been dusted with. And it _smelled_ amazing.

“Okay, the first one’s for you guys,” Lance stated, crossing his arms self-satisfactorily. “But the rest I want to make into stuff for the community. Donate it to the food pantry, y’know? They’re not gonna ask where we got the cherries.”

Keith snorted, but was too busy watching Hunk cut him a slice of the pie to think of a clever response. As soon as the slice was on a plate, he dug in, not even regretting that he hadn’t waited until it cooled, just opening his mouth and breathing out a little around the hot cherry filling. “It’s great!”

He did feel a little guilty when he saw Lance hanging back, not touching any of the food. Because _duh,_ he was dead. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t even have any of the literal fruits of his labor.

~

*Go back to his old high school and ruin his principal’s office*

“I thought you were too much of a goody-two-shoes to do stuff like this,” Keith called through the walls. He looked down at his fingernails as he heard books being moved around, papers flying through the air, pencils snapping.

“The guy’s a pedophile. I couldn’t _believe_ they didn’t fire him after that whole fiasco. I always wanted to give him some kind of consequence for doing what he did, but I was just another teenage kid that didn’t matter,” Lance replied, coming through the wall with a big smile on his face. “It made me feel like a real poltergeist for a second.”

Keith chuckled as he straightened, continuing down the hallway, which was empty since the whole school was at a choir concert, also the reason Keith had been allowed inside. “So it’s still a goody-two-shoes kind of thing after all.”

“I like to think of it as _justice_ ,” Lance shrugged. “Though… I better keep it to a minimum in case it gets me in trouble with Coran.”

“As long as it doesn’t get _me_ in trouble, do whatever you want.”

“Whatever you say, partner.”

~

*Win one of the big stuffed animals at the county fair*

“I’m not actually any good at this,” Keith frowned, looking at the targets on the other side. He’d taken to wearing his earbuds pretty much any time he was out with Lance, so that anyone who thought it was odd that he was talking to himself would see them and think _oh, he’s just on the phone with someone_ even though they weren’t even plugged in.

“Okay, just make it _look_ like you’re the one shooting, and I’ll do the actual aiming.”

Keith sighed and picked up the can-shooter for the carnival game, taking aim at the top target. “Why weren’t you ever able to do this before?”

“I always had to babysit my little siblings, so I had to quit before I scored the big prize. No no no, don’t aim at that one. Go for the one a little lower, first. Like this.”

Lance leaned around him and laid his hands on the barrel of the “gun,” pushing it gently until it was right where he wanted it.

His arms were around Keith, his incorporeal body pressed against him. It made his heart hammer completely out of control, even if he couldn’t actually _feel_ it. The concept itself was bad enough. Not that he showed any of it on his face, just frowned and shot, the can zooming down.

“And that’s the _third_ free extra shot for you, my boy,” the bored-looking carnie at the stand announced. “You got a guardian angel or something?”

Keith smirked. “Something like that.”

~

Pidge tapped her pencil against her palm, frowning at the EM reader. “So wait, Lance, what happens if you make a phone call?”

Lance exchanged glances with Keith, then shrugged. “I dunno. Never tried.”

“Welp, that changes _now_ ,” Pidge replied, tapping some buttons on her phone and then holding it up to him. “Just hit dial and you’ll call Keith.”

He tapped the button. Nothing. Aaaand again. Nothing.

Hunk leaned over Lance’s shoulder, frowning. “Uhh… Pidge? I don’t think it senses his body heat. Since he doesn’t have any.”

“Dammit, that can’t work. We need something without a touchscreen! You got a house phone?”

Allura mentioned having one back at the animal shelter, if they all went, but at this, Lance began to fade out. His expression looked distant, his body paralyzed like a deer in headlights.

 _Right. The house phone_.

“I think that’s enough for today, guys. I need to go to work soon,” Keith lied, glancing over at Lance. The ghost jolted out of his shock, shooting Keith a shaky grateful smile.

“What?! I wanted to test if his voice actually carries across digital messages!” Pidge complained.

“Too bad. Maybe next time.”

They all started heading out the door again, but Allura paused, hovering in the doorway. “Oh, Keith, could you stop by the shelter when you have some time? I’m afraid that I gave Blue to you outside of the official channels, and there’s some paperwork I need you to take care of. Nothing bad, and no fees or anything. It’ll just… keep me out of trouble.”

Keith shrugged. “No big deal. I’ll be over tomorrow.”

“Oh yes, I will _absolutely_ be over tomorrow,” Lance repeated after him, winking at Allura flirtatiously as if he hadn’t just been having a PTSD episode. But, well, that was how he dealt with these things.

~

After another adventure for fulfilling Lance’s list, in this case going to the tallest building in the city and screaming at the top of his “lungs,” they stopped by Soft Paws animal shelter, just in time to see Allura in her uniform, pulling a cat carrier out of the back of a van. She smiled at them and waved, shutting the doors. “Oh, hello.” The cat carrier shook in her hands, a low growl coming from within it. “I’m sorry, you’ve arrived just in time to meet one of our… problem children.”

“Problem children?” Keith questioned, leaning down to look through the bars of the cage, pulling back just in time to avoid getting his nose scratched by the set of long, sharp claws lashing out through the bars of the carrier. “WOAH!”

Allura frowned down at the carrier. “Do be careful. He’s… quite ferocious. He’s lucky we’re a no-kill shelter, or I’m afraid he may never have survived this long, with his attitude. No one even thinks about adopting him, and even foster families never take him for more than a day. I’d take him myself, but… he refuses to even acknowledge me. Even worse than hating me altogether.”

Keith looked into the carrier again, this time from a safer distance. The cat inside was sleek and red-brown, huddled against the back of the carrier and hissing at Keith threateningly.

Lance leaned over, sticking his head all the way into the carrier. The cat tried to swipe at him with its paws, but naturally, didn’t have any effect. “Huh, he kinda reminds me of you, Keith,” Lance retorted. “Mean and hot-headed. You two are a couple of peas in a pod!”

Allura hefted the carrier, bringing it into the shelter’s doors. “I suppose it’s true. Like Keith, Rouge here has passed from foster home to foster home without ever having been adopted. At this point, I worry that he may never be.”

She opened the door to one of the kennels and hefted up the carrier to its door, ready to dump the cat into it. Through the back bars of the carrier, Red’s burning yellow eyes stared out, watching Keith intently.

_Look, his father was a great guy, but I just can’t dedicate myself to a child._

_No one’s ever going to take him, the kid’s a maniac._

_I don’t want to expose_ my _children to someone so violent!_

_What?! Homosexual?! No no, I don’t want to take him anymore. I have two sons. I don’t want him… infecting them with that nonsense._

_You may as well just send him to prison, because it’s the only place that can keep the rest of us safe from him._

“I’ll take him,” Keith announced.

Allura’s grip on the carrier faltered, and it tilted forward, just enough for the red cat to take advantage of the open path to the floor and run off through the shelter.

“You’ll what?!”

“I’ll take the cat. You said even you’ve almost given up on him, right? Well… I won’t.” _Not when he really is just like me._

“Woah woah woah!” Lance interrupted. “What about Blue?! You’re just gonna bring another cat into the apartment?! What if… what if they get in a fight?! I don’t want blood getting in my beautiful kitty’s fur.”

“Blue’s a big girl; she’ll be fine,” Keith shot back. Which he meant both figuratively and literally. Although Blue was small compared to Blackie, she was still probably about twice the red cat’s size, pound for pound.

Allura bit her lip, looking over at the hallway that the red cat had disappeared down. “I suppose… Rouge is an extremely aggressive cat, but Blue _is_ known to have quite the maternal personality. She may... pacify him a bit. But I want you to be _sure,_ Keith. Getting Rouge to trust you will be no easy task.”

“I’m sure.”

She sighed. “Alright, I’ll get the paperwork. In the meantime…” she pointed down the hallway. “If you plan on adopting him, you’re going to have to catch him. Preferably before he attacks some unsuspecting, friendly dogs.”

And that was that. After re-naming the cat Red, because he hated French and its unnecessary letters (and it made a pair with Blue), they brought him home, enlarging their weird, dysfunctional family by one, even if it was going to be a lot of work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Keith’s confession to Lance does come /directly/ from his paladin vlog. :P
> 
> Whew! A super-long chapter to make up for that long absence! Sorry guys, first I had a job interview, and then a convention, and THEN there were the reveals from SDCC and I had to take some time to recover (and figure out how I was going to integrate them into this story *wink wink*), so it took me a while to get back to this story and update. I hope that his chapter does not disappoint!


	12. Red and Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains spoilers to No. 6 (please watch/read No. 6)

Red definitely didn’t come quietly, wasn’t social, and didn’t like Lance.

He hissed through the carrier at just about everyone they passed while bringing him back to the apartment. As soon as they finally got back and let him out, he immediately darted under the loveseat, disappearing completely from view.

Keith, who knew at this point that trying to peek at the red cat’s place under the furniture was likely to result in a scratched face, just sighed resignedly and set the cat carrier aside to return to Allura as soon as he passed that way again.

“You think he’s okay?” Lance asked, going down to the ground and sticking his head through the cushions to look at the cat.

The resulting throaty growl-hiss-screech combination was a pretty good answer, since Lance came flying back out of the couch, looking indignant. “He hates me.”

“Well, you know, just because all cats can see ghosts doesn’t mean they’re all chill about it. They’re not all Blue.”

“No, not every cat can be as perfect as Blue,” Lance sighed, pushing his hair back dramatically. “You really sure about this?”

Keith moved to the cupboard to get down another pair of plastic containers to use as Red’s food and water dishes. “You’ve asked me that at least eight times on the way home and the answer’s still yes. I’m sure.”

“Okay, but… you’re _sure_ sure.”

“ _Yes_.”

Shrugging, Lance floated back to the bedroom and began watching TV-- another anime, Keith was pretty sure. Lance seemed to have pretty eclectic tastes. This one was some kind of dystopia about a kid with white hair and a boy with a weird name, like “mouse” or something like that.

While Lance did that, Keith filled the bowls with food and water and then set them down in front of the loveseat. He wondered what he should do next, considering that Blue appeared to be too busy cuddling Lance to even greet the new cat. Finally, he decided to move the coffee table forward a bit and then lay on his belly in front of the loveseat, just out of claw’s reach.

He couldn’t quite see Red, but he thought he could see a little shadow underneath that indicated where he was. “Hey, it’s me. You’re probably scared, huh?”

Obviously there was no response, but Keith pushed forward anyway.

“I don’t expect you to warm up to me right away. Or Lance. But give him some credit. He’s a good guy, even if he is dead. So just take your time, okay?” he kept his voice soft, soothing, like how Allura always sounded when she was conducting a session. “I’ll move your food to a different place once you come out, but for now, you don’t have to come out far if you don’t want to. I’ll leave it right here. But… you should eat something.”

Again no answer, but Keith didn’t expect one. It was a cat, after all. He probably didn’t understand much if anything Keith was saying.

It wasn’t much, but he could be patient. He had to be.

~

*Day two*

When Keith came back from work in the morning, some food was gone from the bowl, which either meant that Red had eaten something, or that Blue had stolen some. The former was encouraging, the latter more likely.

He planned on telling Lance to watch Blue and make sure she wasn’t eating Red’s food, but when he went into the bedroom, where he could hear Lance yelling to himself about something, the ghost exploded at him.

“He just! He just LEFT, Keith! I can’t believe he just _left!”_

Keith blinked. “What? Who?”

“Rat! I can’t believe it!”

“Uh… oh, you mean in your show. That… sucks, I guess.”

“No no no, you don’t get it. They were… they were a _thing_ , and they went through so much _crap_ together, and, and… and Shion actually _died_ , and they were so torn up and then he just… AAAAAGHHH!!!!!!!!!”

“...are you… actually crying?”

Lance wiped his tears with his sleeve, making a face at him. “Shut up. It’s emotional, okay?”

Keith shook his head, but suppressed a smile as he plopped down onto the bed next to Lance. “Alright, start over.”

“...what?”

“I’ll watch it myself.”

Lance hesitated, glancing at the pillows behind them. “...don’t you need to sleep?”

“Eventually, yeah. But I can’t just go to sleep while you’re blubbering in here, can I?”

He ignored Lance’s glare and smiled to himself as he started the show over, occasionally peeking toward the loveseat in the living room to check if Red had come out of hiding.

He was surprised by the plot of the show, and how intense the relationship of the two main characters was. He was tired, but Lance leaning further toward him with every episode was enough suspension to keep him plenty awake. And even once or twice, he was sure he saw a little red-brown face peek out from under the loveseat, grab a few nibbles of food or a few laps of water, and then disappear back underneath it.

~

“Well, that’s gay,” Keith summarized, feeling his own heart’s turbulence at the end of the show.

“I mean _yeah_ , but is that all you have to say?” Lance asked, floating into the air above the bed.

Keith fell back onto the bed, stretching. To be honest, the show overall had struck an odd chord in him. The enchantingly beautiful boy with a lovely voice and an odd power. The Dogkeeper, abandoned and feral. The two boys who had kissed, fought, and died, and then… parted. As if it should be easy. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Gay was one word for it, but there were too many parts that he identified with, and he didn’t want to have to show that to Lance.

“It was a really good anime. Thanks for watching it with me, Lance,” he replied, yawning.

Lance softened, but frowned. “...No problem. You gonna go to sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“...make sure Blue doesn’t eat Red’s food.”

“Yessir.”

“...Lance?”

“I thought you were going to sleep.”

He paused, shutting his eyes and clenching the sheets in his fist, still thinking about how seemingly easy it had been for Nezumi to say goodbye, and how he wondered if he’d ever be able to say the same thing with as calm a face. “...nevermind.”

~

*Day three*

Keith had taken to sitting on the floor in plain view of Red whenever he ate his meals, scrolled through random buzzfeed articles on his phone, or read one of the books on the paranormal that he’d borrowed from either the library or Pidge. He didn’t know if it was helping, but it was something.

He fell asleep there, after coming home from work, and woke up to see a pair of yellow eyes peering at him, barely inches away from his face. His heart jolted a bit, but he woke up a little more and saw the tiny red-brown face, the long white whiskers, and forced himself to stay calm and unmoving.

“Hey, Red. Decided to come out, huh?”

The cat immediately took off running… right into Blue.

He practically bounced off of her, and she regarded him with fascination. He raised his shackles, growling.

Keith sat up, watching the exchange with interest. This was the part Lance had been most worried about, after all.

Blue didn’t seem to reciprocate the aggression, at least. It wasn’t good to assign human expressions to animals, Keith knew, but if he were to peg Blue’s expression at Red’s anger, it would probably be… pity.

Red lashed out with his paw-- just a warning swipe-- and at this Blue looked fairly indignant, responding with a hiss of her own. And then the full-on fight started, both cats scrabbling across the living room and kitchen floor, yowling and hissing as they disappeared into the bedroom.

Keith got to his feet to separate the cats before anyone got hurt, but it was over by the time he got there. The pair of cats were smooshed up in the corner of the room, Red completely pacified.

Because Blue was sitting on him.

He didn’t seem to know what to do about this situation, trying to wriggle free and snapping at Blue’s face, but she put a paw at his mouth and then… began to groom him. Calmly.

Red _really_ didn’t know what to do about that.

~

*Day four*

Keith woke up again to Red staring at him, although this time it was creepily from around the doorway to the living room. He was crouched low, peering up at Keith with wide pupils.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Keith attempted, keeping his voice low and soft. “I won’t hurt you.”

The cat glanced over to the top of the wardrobe, where Blue slept, curled into a ball. Lance must’ve been off in that in-between world he mentioned he went to sometimes when he wasn’t _there_ , but Blue definitely associated that spot with Lance and napped there often.

“Are you scared of her? Y’know… it serves you right for starting a fight with her. She’s a lot bigger than you.”

Red creeped a little closer, disappearing to Keith’s eyes below the corner of the bed. Keith figured he’d gone back into hiding, and slumped back onto his pillow and pulled the covers back over himself (it was fading into autumn, and thus getting chilly whether Lance was there or not). But a moment later he felt a soft little thump, and opened his eyes to see Red on top of the bed, still watching Keith warily.

“Are you gonna sleep on the bed?”

Red considered it, kneading the mattress with his paws, and then seemed satisfied, spinning around and curling up on the absolute farthest corner from Keith. But it was still a major victory.

~

*Days five, six, and seven*

Red was a little SHIT.

Now that he had recovered from the introduction to the new place, he was out and about constantly, and had about the destructive capabilities of a small tornado.

Within only a few days, Red had:

-shredded the blinds in the bedroom window

-pulled open the loose floorboard and tried to eat Lance’s romance novels (which… HOW?!)

-gotten into the kitchen shelves and broken two of the three ceramic mugs that Keith owned

-peed in Keith’s laundry basket

-left his poop in the kitchen sink

-completely peeled the varnish off of the bottom kitchen cabinets with his claws

-torn holes in Keith’s bedsheets

Keith was trying to be patient, he really was, but when he found that Red had completely eaten through his phone charger cord, he snapped.

“WHAT is your _problem?!_ ” he shouted, picking the cat up off of the floor and lifting him into the air, glaring at him. “I gave you food, and toys, and tried to play with you, but I never bothered you when you weren’t interested! WHY are you so determined to _wreck_ everything?!”

Red scrunched down into himself, but didn’t look particularly guilty. More angry at the indignity of being picked up, and ready to fight.

“Can’t you just scratch at your box?! Like _Blue_ does?! Do you _want_ to go back to the shelter?!”

At this, Red’s pupils dilated and his ears flattened back against his head, and Keith heard the words that had just come out of his own mouth.

He grit his teeth and took a series of deep breaths, slowly setting the cat back down. Red immediately ran to duck under the loveseat, hiding from Keith once more.

Keith collapsed on the ground, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-- I’m just like them, aren’t I?”

Red didn’t respond, naturally, but what’s done is done. Even if the cat forgave him quickly (unlikely, considering Red’s personality thus far), it would be a while before he forgave himself.

~

“So how’s it going with the new cat?” Pidge asked nonchalantly, as if they weren’t travelling in a group through a dilapidated old building, pushing cobwebs out of their way.

“Red? He’s a monster,” Keith replied with a sigh.

Allura fell into step next to him, looking around with her flashlight. “I anticipated as much.”

Allura had started coming on their ghost-hunting adventures as a kind of a… spiritual consultant, after Pidge had gotten frustrated that Keith was the only one who could even see the ghosts. Matt, upon seeing her, had absolutely lost his shit, practically worshipping the ground the mystic walked on, until Pidge finally smacked him in the head with her notebook. Keith imagined that Lance would have had quite a lot to say about Matt’s reaction, were he there to see it, but the ghost had stayed behind to keep Red out of trouble. Or at least try.

“I know you did,” Keith replied. “I’m not gonna send him back, I just need to figure out a better way to train him.”

The conversation was interrupted by a loud crash and subsequent scream from Hunk, who had just peeked into a side room of the large house.

“HUNK! Are you alright?!” Pidge shouted, although her expression was more one of excitement than concern. “Did you find the ghost?!”

“No, no no no, just, uh… put my foot through the floor. I really don’t think this place is structurally sound. We should probably get out of here.” And then a pause. “Can you guys help me out?”

They all worked together to haul Hunk out of the broken floor, and then brushed the dust off and looked around. Pidge and Matt mumbled together over their equipment, and Allura looked around.

“This place is old, but I do not sense any particular presences here,” she insisted. “I sense… there may have been spirits here once, but they’ve long since moved on.”

Matt moved back toward the group, standing deliberately next to Allura. “She’s right. I don’t think there’s anything here. All of our scans have come up nil.”

“We kind of expected that, though. We just figured we’d better check this place out before they tore it down,” Pidge added.

“Great, so let’s get out of here.” Hunk was eyeing the floor warily, his hold on his flashlight so tense that his knuckles were white.

They all agreed, making their way to the first floor and out the window they had come through. But just as Keith stepped through, the building creaked and groaned, and they ran quickly before a good portion of the second floor completely caved in.

~

*Day fifteen*

Keith was eating his dinner (chicken noodle soup) when Red appeared at his side, sniffing at his bowl. Keith lifted it into the air away from him, pointing at the food dish on the other side of the room. “ _No_. Your food dish is over there. This is people food.”

The cat meowed, and Keith glared at him. “ _No_.”

He finished his meal and deposited his dishes in the sink (checking for stray turds this time), then returned to his spot on the loveseat, expecting Red to run away. He didn’t.

Instead, the cat took a hesitant step toward him, and then another, sniffing the air.

Keith lifted his hand, letting Red smell it.

And then, to his surprise, Red moved forward, rubbing his face against Keith’s fingers.

Small victories.

~

*Day twenty*

After all of the excitement of ghost-hunting, fulfilling Lance’s wishes, and raising the cats, Keith was starting to get bored at work.

It was a new sensation. He’d never cared that much about work from the beginning, just regarded it as another annoying part of the life he’d lived, but he’d never found it particularly boring. He slept during the day, ate, went to the gym, and then came back, took a shower, changed, and went to work. That used to be his routine. Empty as it was, he hadn’t hated it. But he hadn’t liked it either. He hadn’t really felt anything at all.

But now he wanted nothing more than to go home and see his cats, to see if Red was willing to be just a bit more affectionate, to watch movies with Lance, to go ghost-hunting with the gang, to ask Shiro if he’d heard anything about Lance’s family. It was entirely new to him.

The hallways seemed to stretch on forever, the number of offices infinite.

Ryner came fairly often now, still working on the immigration cases, and frequently complimented him on his work. Not that he did anything special there.

But he was still grateful when he was finally finished, and he could go home and fix whatever newest mess Red had made.

~

He pushed open the door, yawning. “I’m back. Shiro called. Says he’s gonna kick my ass if he hears I’ve been crawling around in any more buildings slated for destruction and-- Lance, _what are you doing?!”_

The ghost looked up from the notebook he was holding, startled enough for it to fall through his hands, crashing among the pile of the rest of Keith’s notebooks from high school scattered all around him.

“I-- I didn’t mean to read them. It’s just… Red went crazy again and started ripping them off of the shelf and I… the page fell open and I just happened to see it…”

Keith was livid, snatching the notebooks off of the ground, tossing them into the recycling bin.

“Wait, what’re you doing?!” Lance squeaked, pulling them back out. “Those poems you wrote-- they’re _good_.”

Keith’s heart pounded in his ears, his palms clammy, sickened at the thought of Lance reading all of those stupid things he wrote when he was a stupid child with stupid teen angst and… and he’d been _stupid_ enough to genuinely believe that Lance wouldn’t try to read them. To have that much trust.

“The last thing I need is for you to mock me for this.”

“What?! No, I mock you for your terrible haircut-- this is--”

“I _told_ you not to read them!”

“And I _told_ you, I didn’t mean to!”

Keith snatched the notebooks from Lance’s hands and shoved them again, into the recycling bin. He never wanted those things to see the light of day again. He was going to move on from that part of his life. To get past it. To forget it.

A buzz in his pocket. A text from Pidge, suggesting another ghost-hunt.

“I’m going out,” Keith growled, grabbing his keys and storming out, unable to look the ghost in the eye, knowing that the one he was really angry at was, like always, himself. And angry at himself for taking it out on Lance. As always.

~

This time, they found a ghost. They _definitely_ found a ghost.

“KEITH, WATCH OUT!”

He ducked the chair flying toward his head and dove for the base of the stairs, where Pidge was backing toward the door, her video camera shaking in her hands.

“Allura, let’s just get out of here!” he shouted, covering his head to shelter himself from the debris.

Admittedly, he’d been pretty careless. Still angry at Lance for betraying his trust, and trying to get his mind off of it, he’d forced his way into the empty house, caring little about the noise he was making, not noticing Allura calling out after him to tell him of the presence she felt.

It hadn’t been too long before he found what they were looking for-- the ghost of an old man, holding up a ghostly shotgun. He’d grumbled that he’d kill the bastard that was wrecking his house, taking aim at Keith, who had ducked out of the way just in time to avoid the shotgun blast. He didn’t know if the phantom weapon would actually do any damage to him, and he didn’t particularly feel like finding out.

But when he’d dodged, the old man had only panicked even more. “You can see me, boy?!” he’d screeched with wide eyes, backing away. “No… no no no, you must-- you can’t tell the reapers! DON’T TELL THEM I’M STILL HERE!”

Cut to the current moment, when the ghost had gone absolutely apeshit, insisting that he wasn’t going to kill them, just give them enough brain trauma that they weren’t going to be able to talk. And even if he was the ghost of a frail old man, his psychokinetic powers clearly more than made up for it.

“Hunk! Cover Allura! He’s after me and her because we can see him!” Keith shouted, dodging another blast from the phantom shotgun. “Allura, come on, let’s go!”

“No, it’s my duty to put this poor soul to rest," she insisted, standing up straight.

“What?! Are you serious? He’s trying to make you _brain-dead!_ ” Hunk argued, curling around her just in time to shelter her from flying bits of wood from the shotgun blast.

She nodded, and Keith was surprised to see how confident, how unshaken she was. Clearly, she would do it with or without their help.

“Alright, Matt, help Allura with whatever she needs to do. The rest of us, let’s circle around the ghost, keep his attention turned on us!”

“You’ve gotta be _kidding_ me!” Hunk whined, but dutifully ducked out and chucked the leg of a broken chair through the ghost’s chest, instantly succeeding in getting his attention. “...uh… did that work?” he asked Keith.

“Yup!”

Pidge found a high-flash camera and blinked it at the ghost, blinding him for a second, and giving Hunk time to get out of range.

Behind Keith, Allura was beginning to glow slightly, muttering to herself under her breath, as Matt held up her spellbook.

“Any time now, Allura!” Pidge yelled.

“We need to find the ghost’s physical bond!” she shouted back. “It has to have an object linking him to the mortal realm. If we can destroy that… if I cannot pacify the ghost, then doing so will force it to move on!”

The ensuing search/battle felt like it lasted hours, but it must have only been a few minutes. Ducking, dodging, shouting to Pidge and Hunk where the ghost was, what he was doing. They scrambled through the house, looking for anything that may have some kind of significance, occasionally doubling back to get it checked by Allura, who then complained that she couldn’t do the cleansing while they were pestering her.

A bit of debris caught Keith on the side of his face, and he felt the dust in the air sting at the long slice he had from the edge of his jaw to his cheekbone, ignoring the blood dripping from it.

He thought they might be done for, until suddenly, the ghost froze, his arms pinned to his sides, as if bound by invisible rope. Allura stood before him, her book abandoned, and holding the end of the substance that bound it.

“I wish to help you pass on, sir.”

~

Apparently, the old man had been killed by an intruder some twenty years before, and was thus fiercely protective of his home, even in death. Allura had managed to calm him, send him to the afterlife, but it was a tough process, the house was completely trashed, and they were all exhausted.

“Come on, Keith, you can stay at my apartment,” Hunk urged, half-carrying him out of the formerly haunted house, just in time to avoid the police cars pulling up in front of it. “It’s pretty close. I’ll get you fixed up there.”

“What about… everyone else?” he grumbled, holding his shirt up to the cut on his face to soak up the blood.

“We’ve got school tomorrow, so Pidge and I really have to go home,” Matt supplied.

“And I have to work,” Allura answered sympathetically. “Are your injuries severe?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Keith resigned himself to staying the rest of the night at Hunk’s apartment, mostly since he didn’t want to go home right then anyway.

Once the others were gone, and the two boys were walking alone under the street lamps, Hunk finally asked, “so what’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing.”

“No no no, you’re always a little nuts, but today was worse than usual.”

“I… I’ve been greedy.”

“Huh?”

Keith sighed, too exhausted to try finding some explanation for his actions. He explained about the notebooks, the poems, and how much he hated himself for getting angry at Lance. Lance, who was only still there because he couldn’t seem to help him. He still hadn’t found Lance’s family, and, admittedly… he hadn’t really been trying that hard.

Hunk stuck kis key into his apartment door, frowning. “Wait… that’s it? He just needs to find his family?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Why didn’t you ask _me_? I’ve known Lance’s family since we were seven years old.”

The words hit Keith like a train. Hunk pushed forward into the apartment, but Keith remained frozen in the doorway, processing that question. Why _hadn’t_ he asked Hunk? It was such an obvious step, someone who was more likely than anyone to know.

But, of course, the answer was simple: He hadn’t asked Hunk _because_ he was the most likely to have the answer.

“Here, I have a first-aid kit. Make sure you wash off the cut in the bathroom before you bandage it, though. While you do that, I’ll look for their address. I know I have it somewhere…”

Keith moved through the motions of tending to the cut, of washing it with warm and then cold water to remove the now-crusted blood, then dousing it with hydrogen peroxide, wincing when the bubbling stung at his exposed flesh. Rinse with cold water. Douse with isopropyl alcohol to sanitize.

He’d been holding back on purpose. Because he didn’t want to let go.

Behind him, Hunk was shuffling through papers, finally calling out, “Oh, here it is!”

Keith stepped out of the bathroom, the cut fully bandaged. “The address?”

“Nah, I remembered that I have his mom’s number.” He chuckled a little to himself, then hit dial. “She’s gonna be super mad that I’m calling in the middle of the night, but… even if she doesn’t pick up, we’ll know we have the right number.

He pressed the phone to his ear, waiting. “Ah, hey Mrs. Alvarez, it’s me, Hunk!”

And then panic: “What, uh, no ma’am, this isn’t a prank call. Sorry, I must have the wrong number!”

He fumbled the phone, ending the call, then looked up at Keith guiltily. “Uh… sorry. I guess I don’t have her number after all. It _has_ been three years.”

“But you have their address?”

Hunk rubbed the back of his head nervously, frowning. “Yeah, I got it from them when they were up here for… y’know… the funeral.” He paused. “I think it might be back at my mom’s house, so I’ll get it to you in a few days, okay?”

Keith sat down on the floor, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I… thanks, Hunk.”

“No biggie, man. Just… stop blaming yourself for everything. Learn to chill out sometimes.”

“...yeah.”

~

Even after the few hours of sleep he got at Hunk’s apartment, Keith felt completely drained. It was a chilly, rainy day, and the apartment was dark, making it hard to see when he came through the door.

Meowing at his feet-- something rubbing against his leg. Blue?

No. When his eyes adjusted, he could see the cat’s size, its little triangle-shaped head, and felt a little jolt of joy at acknowledging that Red was happy to see him.

But the joy was short-lived. He quickly sank back into his introspection, noticing the notebooks placed neatly back onto the shelves, even though he’d thrown them away.

He’d been gone for a full two days at this point, so checked the cats’ food and water and found them full. Lance must have taken care of them while he was gone.

An envelope sat in full view on the coffee table, opened, but bearing his name. He picked it up, curious, reading the sender’s address.

“Carnation Press?” he read aloud, then pulled the enclosed letter out, frowning at it.

_Dear Mr. Kogane,_

_We normally would not have accepted such a last-second submission to our annual poetry collection, but we wanted to inform you that we made an exception in your case. The emotions of your poetry are pure and gripping, although perhaps somewhat unrefined. As I read them, I found myself intrigued, and remembering old wounds I thought I had long moved past. It’s rare for poetry to have such an intimate and powerful effect, and I felt it was necessary to personally commend you. With practice, and perhaps some training, I feel as if your poetry could characterize your generation. Keep up the good work._

_-Best regards,_

_Olia Larson, sub-editor._

_`_

“That just arrived today.”

Keith spun to see Lance floating in the doorway of the bedroom, looking worried.

“Sorry I submitted it without your permission. I just knew that you were never going to.”

Keith’s fingers tightened around the letter, crumpling it a little. “As if reading it wasn’t bad enough, you had to show it to other people?”

He felt the anger, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was too focused on the tiny piece of paper crumpled in his jacket pocket-- all the info Hunk could remember about Lance’s family.

“Honestly, what drives me craziest about how talented you are? At fighting, playing video games, seeing ghosts and all that junk? You don’t even… care. You can do _anything_ , Keith. But you just stay stuck in this little rut, going to go mop floors. I mean, Hell, there’s nothing _wrong_ with being a janitor, we need them after all, but… you’re meant for more than that. You want more than that. I know it. I need you to know it, too. I mean… you need to be able to move forward after I leave.”

 _Stab_.

Keith dropped the letter back onto the coffee table, his other hand finding its way into his jacket pocket, closing in a fist around Hunk’s notes. “You don’t get to decide what I do with my life.”

“I just want you to know that you _can!_ I mean, did you read that letter?! Do you have any idea how _mean_ editors usually are? You’re lucky if you get a rejection letter! But they wrote it to you _just_ to say how good they think you are. I mean, it’s just a small publisher, but… _Keith_ , I always felt like you gave up on yourself a long time ago. But _I_ won’t. Whether you want me to or not.”

“And I’m just supposed to give up on _you?!_ ” Keith shot back.

As soon as he saw Lance’s reaction, the widening eyes, the slow drift backwards, he backpedaled, dropping his face in his hands. “No, I… nevermind. I… get it. You’re right.”

There was a long silence, Red giving up on rubbing against Keith’s leg and instead deciding to climb it with his claws.

“OW!”

He glared down at the cat, pushing him back down, but when he looked up, Lance was right next to him, his face pressed into a deep frown, gaze focused on the bandage on Keith’s cheek.

“What… happened to your face?” Lance asked, lifting a hand and resting it gently against the bandage, causing Keith’s heart to spasm painfully.

“We found a ghost. He was pissed off.”

“Whoa, really?!”

Keith found himself melting into a smile, resisting the urge to lean into Lance’s hand. “Compared to him, I’m glad I only have you to deal with.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty amazing, aren’t I?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree.

~

Red was starting to enjoy cuddling, although he was still skittish and still likely to hiss at Lance. But it felt like a success every time he felt the cat curled up in his lap, purring, as he searched through the information that Hunk had given him.

Southern California.

Away from the city.

Veronica was living on her own, now.

He was moving forward with it. Moving forward.

He had to tell Lance about it eventually, even feeling a little bit pleased when Lance facepalmed, wondering why _he_ hadn’t thought of asking Hunk, either.

And then they were going door to door to old neighbors, asking what they knew. As expected, their English wasn’t perfect, and often interspersed with Spanish, although it seemed as if they understood Keith well enough, but it was manageable with Lance whispering translations to him.

He decided to tell everything to Shiro when he came in for one of the gang’s sessions with Lance, the first time the officer and the ghost had seriously encountered each other. As much as laying himself bare like that scared Keith, he felt it was necessary. That everyone had gotten swept up in all of this, they _deserved_ to know. Even if he didn’t tell them about his feelings for the ghost, and how much deeper they grew by the day.

But when the gang had gone and only Shiro remained, Keith walked with him to the nearby convenience store, and told him the last few pieces.

“You know this can’t end well… right?”

“Shiro, you know as well as I do that if I could stop myself from feeling this way, I would.”

“True. I guess neither of us have been that great with relationships,” Shiro replied, rubbing the back of his head. “But this is different, Keith. This is something I have _no_ idea how to advise you on. I’m not saying you’re alone, but… as much as we can help you, you’re going to have to say goodbye eventually. Are you really prepared for that?”

“No,” Keith admitted. “But I’ll do it anyway. Because it’ll make him happy.”

~

Ghost-hunting again, thankfully another dud, since he had just taken the bandages off. Shiro insisted on not getting involved, telling them time and time again that they needed to stop breaking into haunted houses, whether they were abandoned or not, but that didn’t seem to deter Pidge and Matt, who only got more excited with every dusty, dangerous adventure.

“We have _video!_ ” Pidge announced happily after Keith asked her how the evidence was coming. “I mean, Hunk and I both worked on the visual enhancements, but you can even _see_ some of the old man’s features. With this, I could seriously start writing my graduate thesis on the relation of subatomic energy particles on alternate planes…”

“Easy now, Pidge, you’re not even _in_ college,” Matt chuckled, still swiping the EM reader back and forth.

“Uh… guys?” Hunk called out, looking through the dirty apartment window. “We’re gonna get in trouble again.”

“Police?!”

“Police.”

They scattered, rushing out different exits, Keith and Allura running for the south exit while the others headed toward the west.

Unfortunately, the cops were one step ahead this time. When Keith pushed open the door, he was greeted by blinding lights, silhouetting the officer blocking his path.

“Alright, put your hands up. That’s enough breaking and entering for all of you,” the voice called out, more resigned than aggressive.

Keith blinked, both from the lights and surprise, recognizing the voice, peering closer at the silhouette instead of joining Allura in putting his hands on his head.

“...Adam?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The anime Lance was watching was seriously a random choice, initially. I just happened to be listening to a song from the No. 6 soundtrack when I wrote that part-- it just fit a bit too well lol.


	13. Reconciliation and Recognition

The awkward silence on the way to the nearest police station was painful. Keith sat next to Allura in the back of the squad car, his cuffed hands resting on his knees.

The last time Keith had seen Adam, he’d been convincing Shiro that they should just take up official guardianship of him. All friendly smiles and facepalms and funny jokes at Shiro’s expense. His relationship with Shiro had been so… warm and comforting to him, giving Keith hope that maybe a safe and happy love was possible after all. But that had been two years ago. The next time Keith had been kicked out of his foster home and ended up back at Shiro’s place, Adam was gone, and Shiro had… hardened, somewhat. He was as gentle as ever with kids, but he was determined, more reserved. Probably few others saw the change, but Keith knew Shiro well enough to notice it.

He learned later that Shiro had shaved the back of his head to prepare it for a brain-tumor removal surgery, not as any kind of fashion statement. That he’d been dreadfully sick the entire time Keith had known him, but hadn’t backed down from work in the slightest, and it was killing him. He hadn’t heard any of this from Shiro himself, mind you-- instead, from his old partner, Kolivan, who was serious and honest to a fault.

He was only guessing, but Adam must’ve finally had enough, trying to tell Shiro to try and give himself more time instead of throwing himself into his work. But he’d left before the chemotherapy and operations had finally started working, and Shiro had gotten better. All of this without most of his “kids” knowing a thing.

Keith knew that Shiro had nerves of steel, but he still couldn’t imagine that the loss of Adam, who had been with him for at least eight years, hadn’t had even the slightest effect on him.

The squad car came to a stop and Adam escorted them out, waving at the cops from the other car, bringing out Pidge, Matt, and Hunk.

As they were all directed to sit in chairs in front of Adam’s desk, Keith noticed that he was the only one handcuffed. A little unfair, but considering he was the only one with an extensive criminal record… he wasn’t surprised.

“Oh god, are they… are they gonna put us in jail?! I can’t go to jail! My mom’ll KILL me!” Hunk whined, shrinking into his chair.

“ _Relax_ , Hunk,” Pidge grumbled, crossing her arms and legs petulantly. “Me and Matt have gotten out of these situations before, we can do it again.”

Adam waved away the other officers and sat down across from him at his desk with a massive mug of coffee-- a heat-sensitive Star Wars mug that had been a gift from Shiro, Keith couldn’t help but notice.

“So you really did move to another precinct, huh?” Keith commented before Adam could say anything. “Didn’t bother saying goodbye.”

Adam sighed. “I was _hoping_ that you’d settle in at your new foster home and high school enough that you wouldn’t need looking after, but I see that you’re still getting in as much trouble as ever, Keith.”

Hunk looked quickly back and forth between Adam and Keith. “Wait, you _know_ each other?!”

“Yup,” Keith answered flatly. “Which is why he knows that I’m the one who planned all of this, and all of you were just strung along.”

“What?! Keith, that’s not--” Pidge started, but he glared at her, cutting her off.

Adam set his mug down on his desk, raising an eyebrow. “You’re gonna take the blame for the whole B&E?”

“Yes.”

Allura put a hand on his shoulder, frowning deeply. “ _Keith_ , we can’t have you carry the blame… you’re the only one of us with a criminal record.”

“Yeah, didn’t Shiro say that you were one crime away from going to prison?” Hunk commented, squirming in his seat.

“Yes.” Keith answered, looking straight at Adam.

“Don’t be like this, Keith. You know that the Holt siblings have almost as many accounts of entering restricted areas as you do, if not more. Your record is just more severe because it includes arson.”

“I’m the only one who went in that apartment,” Keith insisted.

Adam’s mouth puckered into a frown, looking at Keith, sitting just a bit in front of the others, staring him down with determination, and then at the others in turn, before returning back to Keith.

Finally he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, luckily for all of you, none of the companies who own the abandoned property are pressing charges, since most of it was slated for destruction anyway. Plus, since Miss Holt is still technically a juvenile, there’s not much for me to do.” He leaned over and picked up Pidge’s backpack with one hand, the other tapping his fingers against the desk. “BUT, you have to hand over your recordings and measurements. They insist on that in exchange for not pressing charges.”

“WHAT?!” Pidge exclaimed, sitting up straight. “Do you have any idea how hard we worked to get that footage?! Those are valid scientific measurements! You can’t just--”

Matt elbowed her in the stomach, and Pidge glared at him, then crumbled. “...fine. Can I get my equipment back, at least?”

Adam nodded, then waved to the other officer, who opened a door, allowing a middle-aged couple into the office area. Upon seeing them, both Holt siblings quickly panicked. “Your parents are here to get you. You can go with them, too, Mr. Holt.”

Pidge and Matt looked after the others with concern, but were quickly too overwhelmed by the reprimands from their parents to worry too much about Keith. He tuned them out, although it was amusing to hear Mr. Holt’s comment of “didn’t I tell you kids not to get _caught?!”_

“So the others aren’t going to get in trouble?” Keith asked. “Allura and Hunk, too?”

“Yes. The two of them are free to go. But since you so nobly took the blame, I _will_ have to have you spend the night at the station while we get everything sorted out.”

~

After Hunk and Allura had reluctantly left Keith behind, he sat quietly on the floor of the cell, curled in a ball with his arms wrapped around his legs. The quiet was calming, allowing him to think, almost… reminisce about the number of times he’d been in this situation. Although it had been in the other precinct, with the officers he’d seen enough to know by name. Ulaz, Acxa, Kolivan, Shiro, even Slav, the DA that drove everyone absolutely nuts. Here was different. All of the officers were strangers to him, except for Adam.

Adam opened the door to the cell, sitting down on the floor next to him and handing him a mug of coffee, this one plain and white. “You still drink it plain black, right?”

Keith nodded, but when he took a sip, his face spasmed. “Ugh, it’s terrible!”

Adam leaned back, surprised. “Really? This was my own private stash…”

Peering into the cup, Keith remembered that Lance had been making coffee for him over the past few months, recalling the first time, when he’d been surprised by how much better it tasted than when he made it himself.

“Remembering something good?” Adam asked.

Keith looked up. “Huh?”

“You were smiling into your coffee.”

“Oh, I…” He felt a blush creeping into his cheeks, and set the coffee aside. “Just reminded me of someone I… really like.”

Adam leaned back against the wall, tapping his fingers against the concrete floor. “I won’t lie, seeing you again brings back a lot of memories… not all of them bad.” He paused. “Though, last I heard, you were still in _school_.”

Keith grimaced, sipping the coffee again. “I… got kicked out again. Shiro had to cover for me, as usual.”

Adam winced at Shiro’s name, but only for a fraction of a moment before standing up, facing away from Keith. “Well, I gotta get back to work. Try and get some sleep, alright? I know it can’t be comfortable, since it’s chilly in here, but--”

“My apartment’s usually colder,” Keith interrupted. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Oh… well then…” Adam left the cell, closing the door behind himself. Once he was gone (Although Keith could still see him through the reinforced glass), he turned over on the concrete floor, remembering a stanza of the poem that Lance had sent to the publisher.

_Caged in concrete, steel and glass,_

_The prison where I feel most free,_

_Locked inside--me and my past--_

_So all are protected from me._

“What was _that_ all about?!”

Keith just about jumped out of his skin, spitting out the nasty coffee he’d just taken a sip of. “ _Lance?!”_

“What?”

“Why are you here?!”

“Dunno… last I knew I was floating in the other place, and then when I woke up, I was here, with you, watching you talk to that cop. Why’d he make that face when you mentioned Shiro?”

Keith noticed the nearest cop giving him weird looks and dropped his voice, wiping the coffee off of his face. “He used to be Shiro’s boyfriend.”

“WHAT?!”

“Keep your voice--!” He shook his head, remembering that no one could hear Lance anyway, although when he got excited he did tend to lower temperatures. Quickly, he explained what he knew about their relationship and what happened.

“Wait, you’re telling me that Shiro is _gay?!_ But I thought he liked Allura!”

“And I told you _before_ , he was just being friendly. _You_ were the one hung up on your jealousy.”

Lance pouted for a second, his arms crossed in front of him, staring through the glass at Adam. “I guess he is kinda cute?”

“They were kind of the token couple… everyone thought that they would grow old together. I think Adam thought that, too.”

Lance stared off thoughtfully, and then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Hey Keith, y’know what we should do?”

“Lance, _no._ ”

“Aw, come on! Don’t you think they deserve it? Just to _talk_ to each other?”

“I swear to God, if you get me in trouble for this, I’ll…”

“No sweat, just leave everything to me. Loverboy Lance is _on the case!_ ”

~

Keith pressed his face against the grate-covered window to the offices, calling out, “hey can I get my phone call?”

The closest officer stood up, glowering at him. “You can just shut up, punk.”

Keith frowned, looking back at Lance, who waved him forward.

“I just need to call someone to come get me tomorrow morning. Don’t be a dick.”

The officer slammed his fist against the door, but Keith stood his ground, glaring upwards at him.

Finally the officer relented, opening the door. “Fine. One phone call.”

He was escorted to the telephone, Lance floating along behind him, giving him the thumbs-up.

Keith rolled his eyes, but dialed the number, looking directly at Adam when he got to the answering machine. “Hey, Shiro, it’s me, Keith. I guess you’re probably asleep right now, huh? I’m at the police station… again. But it’s in a different precinct because the gang got caught ghost-hunting. Can you come get me?”

There was a click, and then Shiro’s voice, raspy from sleep. “Keith? Are you seriously in jail _again_?! I thought I told you--”

_He wasn’t actually supposed to pick up._

Keith watched Adam visibly not paying attention to him, although he knew he was speaking plenty loud enough to be heard. “Uh… nevermind, Shiro. I’ll just wait ‘til morning.” He dropped his voice, so only the officer watching over him could hear. “But Lance is with me, too, so no one’s feeding my cats. Can you take care of them?”

“What? Yeah, sure, but… hang on, which precinct are you at? I’ll come get you out, just hold on a bit…”

“Uhhhh… sorry, I think that’s the end of my minute. Don’t forget, okay?”

He hung up quickly, raising his eyebrows at Lance to indicate the change in plans.

As he was being escorted back to the cell, he noticed Lance digging through Adam’s stuff as quietly as he could, freezing whenever Adam would look up and frown.

Lance slipped back through the cell just as the door closed behind Keith, grinning and holding up some dorky photos of the two officers covered in silly-string at a picnic. “Oh, this is gonna be _good_.”

~

After a night of very little sleep, although Keith had felt a bit more relaxed with the familiar feeling of Lance in the room with him, he woke up to Adam zipping his full uniform back on, knocking on his cell door. “Come on, Keith, I’ll drive you home.”

He brought him back to the squad car, acting amicably. “I actually called your boss, Ryner? She says you’ve been doing good work. What made you get into something like ghost-hunting?” he asked as Keith shut the door behind himself, Lance settling down next to him in the backseat.

“I, uh… have an unusually open third eye?”

Lance snickered, and Keith glared at him.

“Uh-huh… well, what’s the address? Here, plug it into my phone,” Adam suggested, holding it behind him for Keith to take as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Keith started typing, but Lance waved his hand in front of his face, interrupting him, and tipping Keith’s cell phone over in the seat, so that its lit-up display was in full view.

From Shiro:

_On my way to your apartment now. Where do you keep your cat food? Do you want me to clean the litter box, too?_

Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance was grinning.

“...Yeah, here’s my address.”

~

As they pulled up onto the street of Keith’s apartment complex, Adam asked him more about his life.

“So have you just been working and ghost hunting? I thought it was a bit out of character for you to stick up for others like that, considering the possible consequences. You’ve changed a bit, Keith.” He turned into the parking lot, tapping his finger on the wheel. “Did you meet someone?”

Keith snorted, trying not to look at Lance, although his heart rate had suddenly skyrocketed. “No. I’m lousy at relationships. The only one I knew who had a good one was Shiro, and he’s _terrible_ at relationship advice. And relationships. Kinda weird that he hasn’t dated anyone since you, even though he’s, y’know… _Shiro_.”

Adam parked, turning around and raising an eyebrow at him. “Keith, I _know_ what you’re doing. You’re not nearly as sneaky as you think you are.”

“I don’t really think I’m that sneaky,” Keith replied honestly.

“Well, go on, we’re here. And _don’t_ let me catch you breaking and entering again.”

Lance panicked, waving Keith’s phone through the air, displaying the message that Shiro was about to leave the apartment.

“Uh… actually, do you mind coming in with me? I think I have some of your clothes I borrowed back when I stayed at your place.”

Lance gave him another thumbs-up, and Adam sighed. “You don’t have to give those back, but… okay, fine.”

Naturally, they got to the door just as Shiro opened it, and the two former partners found themselves staring at each other, their eyes wide in surprise, but quickly betraying buried anguish.

“...Adam? Why are you… why are you with Keith?”

“I think I’ve been set up,” Adam breathed, glaring down toward Keith. Or, well, where Keith had _been_ , because he and Lance were already escaping down the street, and even Keith couldn’t keep himself from snickering.

“I am in _so_ much trouble.”

~

“Do you really think they’ll get back together, just like that?” Keith asked, sitting on the swing at the nearest park and eating a churro.

“Oh yeah. Those photographs were in Adam’s _top drawer_. And they weren’t the only ones. That guy had it _bad_.”

Keith smiled to himself, taking another bite of churro. “Detective Lance Alvarez, on the case?”

“Nah, I think for detective work I’ll use my dad’s name. Keep my work and personal life separate. Doesn’t that sound cool? ‘Lance Mcclain, Romance Detective’?”

“It sounds pretty cheesy. Either a kids show or a porno.”

He laughed at Lance’s aghast expression, shoving the rest of his churro in his mouth when he felt his phone buzz, checking it to see a text from Shiro.

_We’re going out for coffee. Tell Lance I said thanks, you little shit._

He smirked, showing the text to Lance. “Well whichever it is, Romance Detective Lance knows his stuff.”

“I _should_ get my own tv show, don’t you think?” Lance suggested, floating at Keith’s side as he got up to go back to his apartment.

“How’re you gonna show up on camera, genius?”

“Uhhh… right. Well, I’m sure Pidge and Hunk can cook something up…”

~

The next few days showed quick recovery in the Shiro/Adam relationship, although hesitant, at first. A cup of coffee turned into going out to dinner, and then meeting for breakfast, and then meeting for breakfast every other day…

Most of which Keith knew because Lance had forced him to get an instagram and follow Shiro, because Lance wanted to watch the whole thing play out, like the nosy little shit he was.

“They are SO CUTE! I mean, look at this! Look at that CAT?! That is a massive cat. An _absolute unit_.”

“Yeah, it’s Blackie and they rescued her together, so she’s happy Adam’s back. Now give me back my phone.”

“What? No, I’m still looking.”

“Lance.”

“You’re gonna have to take it from me!”

“LANCE!”

Cue the chasing around the apartment, tripping over Red, climbing up on the furniture, and finally managing to reach through Lance’s chest and snatch the phone out of his hands.

He was breathless, but amused, even as he lost his balance and fell back onto the bed, followed down by Lance, sitting on the mattress next to him, still grinning. “Okay, you got me. But that’s a cheap trick.”

“Normally I’d hold you down, but I can’t exactly do that with you,” Keith grumbled, spreading out on the mattress.

“...Y’know, I always liked Shiro? He was one of the only cops I trusted.”

“Do you feel different, knowing he and Adam are…?”

“No.” Lance glanced at Keith’s phone, then plopped down on the mattress so that he was lying next to Keith, unbearably close. “No, I think I understand him more now.”

“How so?”

“His eyeliner was too damn perfect. How could I have never noticed?!”

Keith snorted, relaxing, even as Red jumped up onto the bed and climbed onto his chest, meowing.

The cat had finally been litter-trained, after several dozen times Keith had picked him up and plopped him into the litter box, saying, “see? You do your business _here_. Not on my bed.” He was still scratching at things besides his box, but Keith wasn’t expecting to get his security deposit back, anyway. But he was definitely _Keith’s_ cat. He was actually pretty cuddly when he wanted to be, but unlike Blue, was unlikely to even attempt it with Lance. He acknowledged the ghost as an occasional source of food, but otherwise focused entirely on Keith.

He sometimes wished those moments could last forever-- he and Lance, just sitting next to each other on the bed, joined by their two cats. It felt perfect.

~

“So the good news is, Shiro actually _asked_ the owners of this place if we could come in, so we’re not gonna get in trouble this time!” Pidge exclaimed, excited.

“ _You_ didn’t get in any trouble last time,” Lance shot back, crossing his arms. Now that Red was a little bit less troublesome, he’d decided to tag along on the ghost-hunting. “Just Keith.”

“Well… yeah, I know. But still.”

“The downside of it is that the really active ghosts tend to be in places that are shut off to the public,” Matt pouted. “Especially the dangerous ones.”

“Why do you sound _sad_ about the fact that if there’s a ghost here, it might not be dangerous?!” Hunk complained.

“Hey, dangerous ghosts are powerful,” Pidge snapped. “The more powerful the ghost, the more likely it is to show up on our equipment." She turned on her video camera, then aimed it at Allura. “Well, spirit medium? D’you sense anything?”

Allura looked away from the camera, frowning. “Well I… not at the moment, but… it does seem as if something’s coming. From there.”

She pointed at a blank piece of yellowed wall, which, as they all looked, appeared to Keith’s eyes as if it was sinking in on itself, disappearing into a black hole, a familiar figure stepping out of it.

“Why hello there, Lance! Just checking in! And good heavens, where are we?”

Coran looked around in amazement, before his gaze fell on Allura, and his jaw dropped. “ _Princess Allura?!”_

Allura seemed to have the same reaction. “Coran? Is that really you, Coran?”

The others looked back and forth between Allura and the wall. “Uh… is there… somebody there?” Hunk asked.

“It’s a reaper,” Keith supplied. “Kind of like a… parole officer for ghosts.” He shot Lance a grin, which was returned. “You can’t see him?”

“Uh… no.”

“But you can see Lance?”

He would’ve inquired further, but was quickly distracted by Allura lurching forward and sweeping the reaper into a hug. “Coran! I haven’t seen you in so many years!”

They started talking rapidly, some in English, some in Allura’s language, until finally Allura turned to the rest of them, eyes twinkling. “Coran used to be a friend of my father’s, when he was alive. He came to our house so often, I… I thought of him like an uncle.” She paused. “I never knew you were a collector of souls?”

Coran shrugged, but looked a bit sheepish, even in his black robes. “Well, I felt as if your father was as good at guiding souls as I was, so… I gave him a few… extra powers.”

Allura gasped. “They always said he had made a deal with Death… I didn’t realize…”

“Surprise! Now, what’re you all up to?! Though, based on these kids’ faces, I don’t think they can see me. Pity, that. Alright, I can’t stay long.”

“You’re leaving already? We were just about to search for lost souls…” Allura asked, sounding sad.

“And you’ve been doing a fine job, I promise you that,” Coran replied, twirling his moustache. “But there’s one lost soul I’m most concerned about.”

He tapped the wall with a finger, and the shadow-gate opened again, the darkness swirling around him. “But that’s Keith’s problem, not yours. Still… it was good to see you, Princess.”

“Please, Coran, there’s no need to call me ‘princess.’ I only insisted on that because I forced you to play with me when I was a child.”

Coran smiled back at her, one foot through the portal. “That’s not why I call you Princess, my dear.”

~

After a brief rundown of the conversation to Pidge, Matt, and Hunk, who had only caught Allura’s side of it, Hunk suddenly stood up straight, shouting, “OH YEAH!”

He shoved his hand into the pocket of his vest, procuring a folded piece of paper and holding it out to Keith. “The address! I don’t know if they’re still living there, but this is the address Mrs. Alvarez gave me when I saw her at the funeral.”

Keith’s heart tightened painfully, and he gingerly took the piece of paper, staring down at the address, then looked up at Lance, at the way his expression changed from confusion, to understanding, to excitement.

“You mean you found my family?!” Lance shouted, practically tackling Hunk into a hug. “Hunk! Hunk, do you know what this means?!”

“Uh, yeah, yeah I do. And that feels _really_ weird by the way.” He frowned, silence falling through the group as they _all_ came to terms with just what it meant. “But once you find them… doesn’t that mean you’ll go away?”

Lance froze, noticing everyone’s gazes turning to him. “Y-yeah, I guess it does, doesn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, I haven't actually seen S7E1 because I'm waiting to binge it on Netflix, so I don't actually know Adam's personality. But I felt that the relationship was so significant, I /had/ to include it.
> 
> Also the Star Wars mug is based on one I actually own lol


	14. The Road to Goodbye

After that, it was simple to look up the address of Lance’s family online, to plan the trip, to ask Ryner for two weeks off of work, to have Shiro and Adam help him rent a car, to have Allura stop by his apartment once per day and take care of the cats while he was gone.

At least, the actions themselves were easy.

He tried to keep his emotions as light as he could, keeping up with Lance’s excitement for the road trip. “And we _have_ to stop by St. Louis! There’s something magical about a big doorway without a fence, you know? Oh, and I think we should stop by a few ghost towns, just for Pidge’s sake!”

“It sounds like fun,” Keith replied around the knot in his throat, although his words were genuine.

He actually pretty much let Lance plan the whole thing, all the way down to the snacks they would store in the backseat and the scenery they _had_ to stop and see, even if it was pretty far out of the way, even if it added up to a pretty steep cost. He didn’t feel guilty in the slightest splurging on Lance like this. Not for this.

The day of their departure, the whole gang came by to say goodbye, everyone trying to make it seem as if it would only be temporary, as if Keith and Lance were just going on an adventure to go find themselves.

“I’m uncertain why Lance is able to leave the apartment as he does, but if you ever feel as if you’re being pulled back, _don’t_ resist it,” Allura advised. “I don’t know what the consequences will be.”

“Be careful in the mountains, okay? If you ever feel like you’re getting tired, there’s no shame in pulling over,” Shiro advised.

“I’ll have plenty of new stuff for us to do once you get back, I promise,” Pidge remarked, although there were glistenings of tears even in her eyes.

Hunk, by contrast, wasn’t even _trying_ to hold back his tears. He was full-on sobbing, bodily fluids leaking liberally from his eyes and nose. “I don’t want to have to say goodbye _again_!” He blubbered, attempting to hug both Lance and Keith, ultimately only hugging Keith, although Lance patted his shoulder. “I already lost my best friend once, I’m not ready to do it again!”

“Aw, come on, big guy, we both know you already replaced me with Pidge,” Lance replied lightly.

“Don’t SAY it like that!” He let go of Keith, wiping his tears and snot. “Um, I wrote a little letter for your mom… just to, y’know, check in. Keep in touch. There’s something from my mom, too, since they used to be good friends, Pacific Islander to Caribbean, y’know?”

Keith took the letter, nodding encouragingly. “I’ll see she gets it, even if Lance doesn’t. “

Finally he faced the group, swallowing back his own emotions for the millionth time. “Well… here we go.”

Hunk lurched forward again, jerking him into a hug, and then grabbing Pidge, too, and soon the whole gang was surrounding him, hugging him tightly, as if by hugging him they could do so to Lance by proxy.

Shiro was the last to let go, ruffling his hair and smiling, even though his eyes were sad. “Take your time, Keith. Say goodbye when you’re ready.”

Even after Keith had gotten into the fully-loaded rental car and began to drive away, he knew he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. That he probably would never be.

~

“WOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!! It’s even bigger than it looks in the pictures!”

Lance looked like a kid in a candy shop, flying over the grass toward the base of the St. Louis Arch and looking up, up, up at its peak, shading his eyes from the bright autumn sunshine.

Keith shivered in his jean jacket, but smiled as he watched Lance go from the base of the arch to the edge of the Mississippi River, still swollen from a summer of unusually heavy rainfall. He was glad it wasn’t a disappointment, considering the full half-hour it had taken him to find a place to park, and then the next hour they had spent wandering through an art garden leading up to the Jefferson memorial, which included the arch.

Lance floated up twenty or so feet, peering through the glass of the arch. “Woooaaahhh, there really is an elevator in there!”

“Do you want to go up?”

Lance rocketed down to the ground, still grinning. “REALLY?!”

“Yeah, sure. No one can see you, so I’ll only have to buy a ticket for myself.”

“Okay okay yeah, but first, take a picture of me under the arch!”

“...Lance, you’re a ghost.”

“...right. But didn’t Hunk modify your camera?”

Keith frowned, digging around in his knapsack for the cheap polaroid camera he’d purchased just for this trip. He frowned down at it, considering the metal bits Hunk had attached to its lens, then shrugged. “Well, it can’t hurt to try.”

The image he snapped of Lance was blurry and he looked like a black-and-white photo transposed onto a color one, but Keith would still treasure it forever.

“Alright, you look amazing, Loverboy Lance. Now let’s go, I think the entrance is over there.”

“Huh? But we want to go up, right? Why do we have to go underground?”

“Because that’s where the elevator is! Now come on!”

~

He was pretty sure the other people in the tram rising to the observation deck of the arch were made a little bit uncomfortable by the presence of the ghost, since his excitement meant that the little elevator car was _freezing_. But honestly, Keith didn’t really care much about what they thought. He was too busy looking at the view.

When they reached the top, he leaned against one of the windows, his voice low as he asked Lance, “were you ever afraid of heights? I mean, now that you’re dead, you can’t be hurt by falling, so it’s not a problem, but like… when you were alive?”

Lance considered this for a second, then shook his head. “Nah, I was getting in trouble for climbing trees and stuff, even before I could talk. Veronica said I used to give her a heart attack, when I would come crashing down to the ground, because she didn’t know what she would tell our parents if I was hurt. But miraculously, I was always fine.” He paused, smiling down at the view. “I always wanted to be closer to the stars.”

~

Their next adventure was the big “adult playground” in St. Louis, actually the City Museum. The ticket was expensive, even more so than the arch, but again, the price seemed paltry next to the sight of Lance shooting through the equipment, challenging Keith to a race to the top, laughing wildly.

“But you’re not allowed to go _through_ anything!” Keith called out, then rushed forward, clambering after Lance as fast as his arms and legs would allow.

~

By the time they got back on the road, Keith’s arms and legs were completely turned to jelly, and his butt felt weird from going down so many giant slides. He’d lost completely to Lance, but he wasn’t surprised. _He_ was limited by the endurance of his muscles, while Lance had no such restriction.

“You know, if we were both alive, I would’ve won,” Keith chided, gripping the wheel tightly.

“I guess we’ll never know, huh?”

“...maybe.”

They drove for quite a while before exhaustion overcame Keith, just leaving the Missouri-Oklahoma border behind them when he finally pulled into a truck stop to get some sleep, having decided to forgo any hotels. The further south they went, the less the chill was actually bothersome and more similar to the cold he’d lived with on a daily basis for the past several months.

The whole while they’d driven, top-down until sunset, Lance had kept the radio blasting, delighted by “Despacito”, although annoyed when Justin Bieber’s part came on, wishing that they played the version that was just in Spanish. And singing along to “Havana,” dancing in his seat the whole time, doing a pretty good job of distracting Keith from the road.

But when darkness fell, he’d quieted, turning the volume down and staring out the window, watching the country go by.

Keith’d gone in for dinner at the truck stop’s retro-themed diner, frowning at the coffee after taking a sip of it.

“Why is it that you use the same cheap coffee beans, but the coffee you make tastes better than anything else?” he asked Lance, sipping the stuff and grimacing, although he wasn’t going to complain about it to the exhausted-looking waitress.

“It’s because I make it with love.”

Keith choked, some of the coffee going up his nose, which _burned_ , not that Lance would know, as much as he was laughing at Keith’s expense.

When finally Keith had gagged out most of the inhaled coffee and cleaned up the spill, Lance laid his head on the booth table, smiling a little. “I had a part-time job working at a coffee shop before I died. I worked hard learning everything I could about it. I never really did learn to bake as well as Hunk could, but… even if I couldn’t do anything else… at least I could make coffee.”

~

When they went back to the car, despite his exhaustion, Keith joined Lance up on the hood of the car for a long time, looking up at the stars, sparkling vividly as far away from any cities as they were.

Lance watched him climb up, remarking about how he was probably going to scuff the paint and have to pay damages, but Keith didn’t care.

“What’s the closest you’ve ever been to the stars?” he asked, laying down with his hands under his head, the same way Lance was.

“...there was one time, when I was… maybe six? I told my dad that I missed the ocean. And so, one day, he took me out to our uncle’s house up north, and we went out onto the lake on his fishing boat. I… climbed to the top and listened to the waves, looked up at the stars above, and reflected down below. It felt like we were sailing through space.”

They fell into silence, staring up at the stars, listening to the nightbirds, the whizzing of cars going by on the highway.

And then Lance started to sing, as if he weren’t even thinking about it. Not looking at Keith, just staring up at the stars as if he really was sailing through them, even as he lay on the roof of the rental car.

Keith closed his eyes, letting the notes of the lullabye wash over him, wondering if he would ever tell Lance how much he loved his voice. Maybe he never would. Maybe he didn’t need to.

~

After a phone call from Allura in the morning, claiming that Red was still refusing to listen to her, so she’d taken him to Shiro’s place where Blackie was teaching him how to behave, they drove pretty steadily through Oklahoma, only bothering to stop to refuel, go to the bathroom or replenish their supply of drinks. Well, Keith’s supply of drinks. Although it was amusing that one time Lance actually _tried_ to chug a gatorade and instead just dumped the whole thing onto the pavement.

The good thing about driving to southern California as opposed to the northern part was that they would avoid the majority of the Great Plains, those states like Kansas and Nebraska that were nothing but corn on all sides for miles. Although Lance did insist on stopping at EVERY state border and getting a picture under the big signs, one each just of himself, and then one of him and Keith together.

“Y’know, people are going to see these photos and think it’s some kind of haunted road trip,” Keith commented, sifting through the polaroids while they refilled the gas tank.

“Well, I mean… technically it _is_ …” Lance replied, leaning against the side of the car.

“But _look_ at these pictures. You look so creepy!”

“I do not!” Lance grabbed the photos from Keith’s hands and flipped through them, quickly grimacing. “Okay, yeah, they definitely don’t do favors for my complexion. I look like I’m looming over your shoulder instead of standing next to you.”

“Well, at least we _have_ photos of you.”

“Yeah… but when you get to my house, you should ask my mom for some _good_ photos of me. There are plenty, I promise. Since I look beautiful in every photo.”

Keith skeptically held up the picture of Lance under the Arch.

“EXCEPT the ones where I’m _dead!”_

Snorting, Keith pulled the pump out of the gas tank. “Well, I’ll be sure to ask when I get there. I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“Make sure you get plenty. I don’t want you forgetting my beautiful face.”

Keith swallowed, his finger hovering over the PIN pad. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

~

Plains turned into desert, stretching out for ever and ever as they crossed the very northern part of the Texas panhandle, then swung southward as they entered New Mexico, to visit the third ghost town marked on their route since leaving Illinois.

They parked the car in the dusty road in front of a half-collapsed hotel, stretching as they looked around at the scenery.

It sure didn’t look like much. The skeletal remains of a gas station, the hotel, a mostly-disintegrated bar, and some pueblo houses leading down to the ruins of what looked like an oil rig. In the distance, a solitary wooden shack occupied the very end of the dirt road.

“When I was researching ghost towns on your computer, they said that this one used to be an oil town back in the seventies-eighties,” Lance explained, leaning against the car. “But there was a big fire and the company just up and left, and took the jobs with them.”

“Did anybody die?” Keith asked, peeking inside the hotel and seeing the lobby half-buried in sand.

“I dunno. But…” Lance shivered. “It still creeps me out.”

“Lance… you’re a ghost. Why would you be creeped out by a ghost town?”

“...well I’m not one of them! They might think I’m an invader or something.”

Keith snorted, noting the old jukebox in the corner, then headed out of the hotel, taking a few photos with his camera. For Pidge.

They headed toward the pueblo houses, Lance disgusted by their mass-produced color-clashing interiors.

“ _Quién eres?”_

Keith spun, turning to see a burly-looking Latino man looking through the window at them, the dusk light shining red through his translucent skin. And more behind him, looking curiously at the visitors.

“Oh… there _are_ ghosts here,” Keith breathed, noticing burn marks on their arms, chests, faces. “Lance… I think they’re Latino.”

Lance noticed them looking at him, clearing his throat. “Oh, I’m from Cuba. You guys’re probably Mexican, right?”

“ _Ahhh, Cubano.”_ They said some more things to him in Spanish, then turned to Keith. “You are not dead, though?”

“Um, no. Just… curious.”

“You come here to bring back our jobs?”

Keith slowly shook his head, his heart heavy. “I… I’m not really anyone with that kind of authority. I don’t think… I don’t think the jobs are ever coming back.”

The man closest to him looked down at his burned hands, clenching them into fists. “I told my daughter that I’d bring her to live with me once I got enough money. I never got the chance.”

~

After calming the ghosts as much as they could, and getting a group photo together, the ghosts asked Keith to find their families, if he could. Just tell them that they were gonna see them soon.

When he promised that he’d do his best, they seemed to relax, disappearing into the nighttime sky like clouds of sand in a whirlwind.

The rest of the drive that night was quiet, their encounter with the ghosts weighing heavily on the both of them. It was good that they’d been friendly, but it still seemed as if every ghost Keith met taught him something new. What people held onto after they died. Sometimes it could be something as simple as a photograph, a tiny house, a promise.

It was easier, he thought, to meet the vicious ghosts, who remained to protect, to avenge. They didn’t seem so… human to him. So real. As powerful and frightening as they were, they didn’t dig in his ribcage like this.

It was Lance who finally broke the silence. “You really gonna try to find their families?”

“Yeah. Once I finish with yours. Maybe not right away, but… a little at a time.”

“...you really _do_ care, don’t you?”

“I didn’t used to,” Keith admitted.

“I know.”

~

After another night at a truck stop, surprised by the nighttime chill this deep into the Southwest, they continued forward, stopping in a place that was a must-see for any American road trip.

“Oh my-- HELLOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Lance screamed down into the canyon, frowning when his voice didn’t echo. “HELLO?! THIS IS THE GRAND-FUCKING-CANYON MY VOICE SHOULD BE COMING BACK TO ME!”

He turned back to Keith, pouting.

Keith rolled his eyes, stepping over to the edge of the mesa, looking at the layers of red and red-brown rock, the streams far, far below.

“HELLOOOOOO!” he bellowed, scaring up a flock of birds on the cliff below them.

When his voice echoed, Lance looked up in delight. “WOW!” He rose into the air, looking all around them, his whole body glimmering in the midday sunshine. “It’s all I can see! It just goes on forever and ever and ever!”

He laughed maniacally, swooping down to Keith, grinning at him… and then diving off the edge of the cliff, screaming with exhilaration.

“LANCE?! LANCE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

He watched as the ghost hurtled toward the canyon floor, his voice beginning to disappear with the distance, until he stopped suddenly, yanked backwards as if he had been wearing a bungee harness, coming sailing back to Keith ass-first until he was deposited unceremoniously back on the red-brown dust at Keith’s feet.

“Oof.” He sat up, rubbing the center of his chest as if that had been the spot the invisible cord had been attached to. “That was weird. That hasn’t happened to me since--”

He froze, eyes wide.

“Since what?” Keith asked, dropping into a crouch next to him.

Lance looked away, shaking slightly. “Never mind.”

~

They went for a brief hike in the canyon, coming back up in plenty of time for the rest of the day to be spent driving through the remainder of Arizona, finally arriving in a small California city nearby their destination at around two in the morning.

Lance had been keeping him awake by telling stories of his childhood, about the trouble he’d gotten into with his two brothers, the fun things that happened when his baby nephews and nieces were trying to learn English and Spanish at the same time, when he and Veronica had found a momma cat and a litter of kittens, and had gotten them all adopted out, except Blue and the mom. Lance had kept Blue, naturally, and Mrs. Alvarez had taken the young mother cat.

Keith finally pulled over into the parking lot of a small family park, leaning back against the driver’s seat in exhaustion.

“You okay?” Lance asked, leaning toward him.

“...just tired.”

“Well yeah, you’ve only been sleeping like four hours a night this whole trip.” He paused, drifting through his chair and into the backseat, pulling out some breakfast bars from their snack bags and holding them out to Keith. “Here, you should eat something.”

Keith took them, leaning his chair back as far as it would go and looking through the open sunroof at the inky black of the night sky, the stars mostly blocked out by the nearby city lights. “Thanks. I just wanted us to have as much time as possible to see everything.”

Lance leaned forward, resting his arms and head on the headrest of Keith’s chair, looking down at him. “You sure the two weeks you asked off from work are really gonna be enough?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna drive straight through on my way back instead of stopping to sightsee, so it should be fine.”

Lance fell silent for a while, his eyes half-lidded as he looked down at Keith’s face. “You don’t have anything else you want to see?” he asked, his voice softened.

“Not by myself.”

~

The closer he got to the Alvarez house, the more Keith’s heart and stomach felt like they were tying themselves in knots. Excitement vicariously through Lance, and then agony, and then anxiety… all coming to a head when he finally pulled into the driveway, his phone’s GPS blinking that he’d arrived at his destination. If it wasn’t for his pulse pounding in his ears, he would have been unsure that his heart was functioning at all anymore.

“We’re finally here,” he announced, although made no move to get up. His own words sounded hollow to his ears.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely my mom’s house. She always did love that ridiculous orange color,” Lance commented, so excited he was practically shaking. “I’m really… I’m really gonna see them again, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

Lance looked over at him, brows furrowed. “Are you ready?”

_No._

But he turned off the engine, reached into the backseat to grab the bag for the Alvarez family, and then pushed the car door open, stepping into the southern California heat and sunshine.

He walked up to the bright blue-painted door, lifting his hand to knock, hesitating, and then finally, with one look at Lance floating next to him, at his shining blue, glimmering in the sunlight, he steeled his heart and rapped his knuckles against the door.

Shuffling inside. Children’s voices. An older voice telling them to hush. And then the door was opening, revealing a middle-aged woman with gray streaking through the wisps of brown hair escaping the loose bun at the back of her head. “Hello?”

“Um… hi, Mrs. Alvarez, I’m… Keith Kogane… I called you a few days ago, saying I was coming.”

“Oh yes, the boy who has some of my son’s belongings. Come in, come in,” she insisted, moving out of the doorway.

Keith stepped inside, glancing at the young children who peeked around the corners at him, then giggled and disappeared when they noticed him looking at them.

“You really didn’t have to come all this way,” Mrs. Alvarez insisted, brushing her hair back nervously. “Though I’m grateful you would do so much.”

“It really wasn’t that much trouble.”

“Oh, I’ll get you something to drink. You can’t be used to the desert heat. Ay, Luis! Get our guest some juice!”

“Yes Mamá!” answered an adult male voice from the other room.

“Come, come, sit,” she commanded Keith, pushing him forward into the dining room, where a young man was bringing him a pitcher of lemonade and a glass. “Veronica said she’d visit today, since it’s her birthday. So you’ll get to meet the whole family, if you want to.”

Keith glanced at Lance, who had planned it just so that would happen. The ghost seemed overwhelmed with everything, constantly reaching for his mom, his brothers, just to pull back, realizing they couldn’t see him, wouldn’t hear him.

“Who’s that?” a small voice asked from just below Keith’s shoulder.

“A friend of your Uncle Lance,” the young man Keith guessed to be Luis answered, as Mrs. Alvarez sat down across from Keith at the table.

“No… who’s _that_?” the child asked again, pointing very deliberately at the corner where Lance stood.

The ghost looked down in surprise at the little girl, and then up at Keith, wondering what he should do.

It reminded him of something Pidge had said, back when he’d first met her. _My brother was starting to have trouble seeing it anymore. Whether it’s just that the ghost didn’t like showing itself to grown-ups, or that younger kids are just better at seeing ghosts, I don’t know._

Keith leaned down to her ear, whispering, “That’s your uncle Lance.”

She looked up at him, awed, then went back to staring at the ghost.

“Go and play, niña,” Luis commanded.

“Sorry about my grandchildren,” Mrs. Alvarez apologized. “They are curious.”

“I don’t mind.” He shook his head, reaching into the bag for the books he’d retrieved from underneath the loose floorboard. “Um, these are the books I found. I know it’s not much, but, um… I have a letter here from Lance, too. It’s for you. Well… actually it’s mostly for Veronica. About… Juanita.”

All of the adults in the room reeled, grief playing across their faces. Mrs. Alvarez was the first to recover, patting Keith on the shoulder. “Then you should wait until Veronica gets here. Marco and the kids will show you the neighborhood, yes?”

“Uh… sure.”

~

The Alvarez family was incredibly kind. Most of the grandkids were apparently Marco's, with a few scattered ones belonging to Luis. The two brothers lived in separate houses, but both lived on the Alvarez land, not far from the beach.

The kids found Keith fascinating, showing him their bug collections, their books, their science experiments, pulling him every which way, demanding that he push them on the swings, or giving him their empty cups so apparently he could wash it for them.

Marco told him about moving to California, how they’d all missed the ocean more than they even realized they did. But how it reminded him of Lance, who he swore was part fish, he used to go swimming so much. That he’d been the one who was supposed to teach Lance how to swim, even when they were still living in Cuba and Lance was barely more than a toddler. That he didn’t even have to teach Lance at all. He’d just kind of put him in the water and that was that.

Mrs. Alvarez showed him all kinds of baby pictures of her sons, of Lance as the homecoming king, even though he’d failed to get a date that year.

“I was so proud of my son,” she said, her voice cracking. “I was so harsh on him, I never said it. Even though he worked so hard to graduate early, to go to a good school... It’s what I regret more than anything.”

“I don’t think he blames you,” Keith replied, as he watched Lance bury his sobs in his hand, tears streaming down his face.

Then a knock on the door, a female voice calling out. “Sorry I’m late, Mamá! I lost track of time. What’s that car in the driveway? Someone else here?” She paused in the doorway to the living room, frowning as her gaze landed on Keith. “Who’re you?”

“I--”

“A friend of Lance’s,” Mrs. Alvarez answered for him, then urged him forward, insisting that he eat with them.

The party was fun, even if he felt extremely out of place, with the kids running around, siblings bickering, telling embarrassing stories about each other, Luis dunking Veronica’s face into the cake when she leaned over to blow out the candles.

After the mess of cake was cleaned up and everyone settled down, Mrs. Alvarez patted Keith on the shoulder, waving her hand for the family to quiet. “Alright, young man. We’re here, and we’re listening.”

Keith swallowed, remembering the script Allura had had him memorize, the best way she had found, over the years, to introduce family members to ghosts.

“The truth is… I didn’t come here to bring you all some stuff that belonged to Lance. I came here to bring you… Lance.”

When they all looked confused, he began explaining. About souls that held onto memories and emotions, how they needed guidance. And then he told the whole story, from the beginning. The cold in the apartment, the mystic’s spell, Blue the cat, and Lance’s story.

They looked bewildered the more he spoke, especially Veronica, when he got to the description of how baby Juanita had died.

“So… this letter he wrote… it’s after he died. He… can’t pass on until he tells you. But since you can’t see him or hear him… he wants me to read it to you.”

He stopped, waiting for them to call him a witch, or a liar, or to panic, but oddly enough, Veronica seemed calm.

“I remember… when we went to the apartment to get his things, I did feel as if… he was there,” she said, looking around at her family. “I believe you, Keith.”

“Go on, read the letter,” Mr. Alvarez insisted.

“Right. Um…”

Keith retrieved it, unfolding the paper, unnerved by the whole family’s eyes on him. He actually had no idea what the letter contained, not having looked at it until just then. “Here goes.”

_To my dear family,_

_No, that sounds cheesy. There’s a better way to introduce this. To my dear mother: I love you and I don’t blame you for anything. I miss your hugs. To my terrible brothers. Yeah. And to Veronica, and my nieces and nephews, who I guess there must be a bajillion of by now…_

_I know what Keith told you is probably freaky. Don’t worry; I’m not haunting or cursing anyone. You raised your son too good for any of that._

_Okay, honestly, I don’t actually know what to write in this. Everything I want to say seems stupid and cheesy, so I’ll just come out and say it:_

_I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry._

_Mamá and Papi: I’m sorry you never got to see me graduate college, like I promised you would. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of those police calls and long nights when I went out partying, and it seemed like I wouldn’t amount to anything. I’m sorry I never got the chance to make it up to you._

_Marco and Luis: I’m sorry I blamed you for so much stuff that was actually my fault just because I could get away with it. Honestly, I was just mad that you were just so good, and our parents were so proud… I felt like I was just a disappointment. That I would never catch up, no matter how hard I tried. But you also covered for me so many times I should have gotten in trouble, I’m sorry I wasn’t more grateful. Even if you are still jerks. I love you, you jerks._

_And finally, Veronica: I swear I’ve written these lines over and over again, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to say, what apology I could write that could possibly make up for what I did. It’s even harder, since holding a pen is pretty difficult when I’m like this._

_You trusted me to take care of Juanita, and… I failed. I should have been watching her, and I wasn’t. Keith insists that it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only one who could have stopped it from happening. I loved Juanita. I loved her so, so much, I can’t describe it with words. Even this long after it happened, the events of that night are still playing through my head, and I felt… I feel so guilty that it takes over everything. I couldn’t pass on until I told you I’m sorry. I could write it a million times and it still wouldn’t mean enough. I’m sorry, Veronica. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I had to say it. I’m sorry._

 

Keith closed the letter, his throat thick, his voice hoarse. “Signed Lance Alvarez-Mcclain.”

For a long, long time, the family sat in silence, absorbing everything. Mrs. Alvarez was already crying, clutching the photo album to her chest, and both brothers comforted her, although their eyes weren’t dry either.

But the person Lance was watching most intensely was Veronica.

She stared at her lap, transfixed, for what felt like hours, clenching and unclenching her fists. Finally, she looked up at Keith, her expression unreadable. “Tell me, is he here right now?”

Keith nodded.

“Where is he?”

Keith pointed to the only spot in the crowded dining room not occupied by a living body, and Veronica followed his view, getting to her feet.

She was silent for a moment, staring intensely at Lance.

And then started screaming.

“YOU STUPID BOY!”

The entire family backed up, watching her in surprise.

“You think, after all of this time, I want to hear an apology?! You stay in that apartment, too afraid to talk to me, but then once you make a new friend, you’re suddenly brave enough to make him come ALL the way out here just to speak for you?! If you’re here you damn well better show yourself!”

Mrs. Alvarez clicked her tongue. “Language, Veronica.”

“Yes mother,” she replied without missing a beat. “Well?!”

Lance was paralyzed in fear, backed up against the wall, then stared at Keith, begging for help.

Keith sighed, standing up. “Alright, um, I brought a spell that will help you see him, just for a little while. It sounds pretty weird, but I swear I’m not summoning the devil or anything. Just Lance."

After the spell was recited, the whole family fell into chaos. The brothers tried to tackle Lance to the floor. Some of the kids screamed in fear, and some screamed with delight. Mr. and Mrs. Alvarez just gasped, but Veronica stood as sturdy as ever, glaring.

When finally things calmed down again, she nodded at him. “That’s better.”

She waded through the children, whispering to them in English and Spanish to quiet down, to go to the other room.

She stood directly in front of Lance, then finally softened, tears leaking out of her own eyes. “Stupid, stupid little brother. It was bad enough I had to lose my daughter. Why did you make me lose my little brother, too? And then be stupid enough to think I would never forgive you?”

~

After a while, Keith couldn’t bear it anymore, leaving his seat in the dining room and finding a place in the relative darkness and quiet of the empty living room, although he could still hear the family talking, laughing, crying. He looked at the photos on the mantle, the big family, at all of the scattered awards, prizes the kids had earned, feeling his insides twisting around.

“Are you alright?” asked a voice from behind him.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Alvarez,” Keith answered, turning to face her.

“No, you are not. Don’t think you can fool me, boy. I’ve raised too many kids not to know.”

He felt his face spasm, and melted into one of the chairs, his muscles turning to liquid. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

“I know. You care for my son a lot, don’t you?”

“...yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to know. Thank you, Keith, for all you’ve done. For this whole family.”

~

The next morning, Keith gathered all of the gifts the Alvarez family had given him, choking down the tears, his breathing shallow as he tried to keep himself from grieving.

Can you call it grief when they’ve been dead the whole time you’ve known them?

It was done. It was over, and he was gone. There was nothing else keeping Lance in this world, after all. Now that he’d apologized to his family, said his goodbyes. He could finally move on.

“Wow, you look like hell.”

He gasped. “ _Lance?!”_

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I thought you… why are you still here?!”

Lance sat up in the seat of the rental car, tapping his fingers soundlessly against the dashboard. “I honestly have _no_ idea.”

“What, really?”

Lance paused, then shrugged. “You still haven’t taken me to a Beyonce concert.”

Keith choked a laugh, then got in the driver’s seat, waving goodbye to the family one last time. “Well, just your luck, there’s one in the city the day we’ll probably get back.”

“And what makes you think that was _luck?”_ Lance asked with a grin.

Keith shook his head, even as he started the engine and began to pull out of the driveway, back toward the road that would take him across the United States. “I guess I should have expected as much from you.”

~~~~~~~

_Lance knew, after Keith’s visit with his family, it was only a matter of time before Coran showed up. He didn’t have to wait long._

_The apartment was just beginning to darken after Keith had left for work, the fading daylight casting shadows across the life that Lance wasn’t supposed to have, when the familiar black doorway opened up in the bedroom wall, and the mustachioed reaper stepped through, all energetic smiles and wiggly eyebrows, as usual._

_But he stopped short when he saw Lance’s expression. “Lance?”_

_Lance looked away, kicking his feet through the wardrobe. “I can’t, Coran.”_

_Coran blinked, coming to sit down next to him atop the wardrobe. “Why not? You accomplished what you wanted, got to apologize to your family, say your goodbyes… by all rights, you should be ready to move on now. But…” he paused, peering at Lance for a moment. “You’re still tied to this world. I can see it.”_

_“Some kind of funky reaper power?” Lance asked, trying to keep his voice light._

_“Maybe so. Maybe it’s just my instinct as your undead parental figure,” he replied with his signature eyebrow waggle._

_Lance snorted. Not that Coran was wrong, but it was weird to hear him say it. “I… can’t leave him alone. Or maybe… I just don’t want to leave without him.”_

_Coran’s face softened, no longer holding his pretense of cheer and encouragement._

_“Lance, you don’t know how long Keith’s going to live. He’s not alone anymore-- you’re the one who did that. I let you remain on Earth as a ghost because I knew you still had some good deeds you had to finish up, some ties you had to sever properly. Not so you could make another one. You’ve helped heal a great deal of wounds in that boy’s heart, but… it’s just going to make it harder to let go.”_

_“Coran, I know I’m breaking my promise. I just…”_

_Coran cleared his throat, leaning back on his hands. “Lance, do you know why the dead aren’t supposed to remain in this world for too long?”_

_“Because… it’s against the rules?”_

_Coran grinned. “Even the most ludicrous rule is put in place for some reason. This one took me a bit of time to figure out, myself.”_

_“Well, what is it?”_

_“You can change the direction of someone’s life. When you’re alive, you do it all of the time without realizing it. And you keep doing it when you’re dead. See, when people hold on to you, they don’t move on to the people they’re supposed to. They might pass by their soulmate on the streets and not even care.”_

_“So even if I’m not hurting anyone right away…”_

_“You might be keeping them from their happiness in the long run.”_

_Lance looked out the window at the street lamps flickering on in the darkness, imagining Keith out there, running into someone who wasn’t him, falling in love, moving away, becoming a poet, a musician, a whatever-he-wanted-to-be because Keith could do anything, and Lance knew it. He wanted Keith to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. Genuinely. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting._

_“Can I have… five years?”_

_“Five?”_

_“I don’t know how long it’ll take me to let go. Maybe I might never be able to. But, if, in five years, if I still haven’t moved on… if I’m still holding Keith back… you can bring me to… wherever it is I’m supposed to go. I won’t argue. But… I want to see Keith reach this new part of his life.”_

_Coran sighed. “We all do, my boy. That kind of thought is almost always why we stay.”_

_“We?”_

_Coran winked. “You didn’t think I was always a reaper, did you, Lance?”_

_Lance hadn’t really thought of it before. To be honest, he didn’t really know much at all about Coran._

_But Coran was already jumping down off of the wardrobe, re-opening the shadow gate and stepping toward it. “Five years, Lance. That’s a promise. But if you’re ready to move on before that, I’ll be here in a jiffy to come get you! Don’t you worry about that.” He paused, smiling. “I’m always on your side, you know?”_

_Lance smiled back. “I know.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I visited the St. Louis Arch once when I was in high school, on a road trip with my sister, aunt and cousin down to Oklahoma, so my description of the Arch comes mainly from memory. It was a while ago, though, so it’s probably not perfect, lol. Although we went in the spring instead of fall, I remember that year Missouri was half-underwater, so many rivers/streams/creeks were flooded. I remember the Mississippi river was so flooded that year, I could see a stop sign sticking out of the water. I don’t remember a lot of details from the trip, but the stop sign sticking out of the water sticks in my memory.
> 
> The ghost town they visit should be recognizable as the same one from my other Klance fic, “Special Delivery.” By contrast, the blue door is an homage to “Delivery Boy.” :P


	15. Blue Angel

Keith frowned down at the notebook pages, well aware of Lance looking over his shoulder. “Really? You sure you want me to send them this one?”

“What? I really like it. I mean, it’s depressing, just like you, but… it’s magical.”

“But the rhyming scheme is really simple… and I think I wrote this when I was in middle school…”

“Okay, whatever, maybe I don’t know anything about poetry, okay? I just like it. You don’t have to choose it just because _I_ like it. But you should.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but smiled, carrying the notebook over to the loveseat, where Red sat on top of his laptop. He gently pushed the cat off, to much complaint, setting it onto his lap so that he could type. Red was about to slump against his hip in resignation, but when Lance sat down next to Keith on the couch, instead hissed, jumped down, and sprinted into the bedroom.

Lance sighed. “He’s lived with us for three months now and he still hates me.”

“At least he’s not destroying the furniture anymore.”

“No, he’s just destroying my self-esteem, instead.”

Keith snorted, but focused on his typing, his eyes flickering from notebook to computer screen and back. It was a good thing it wasn’t a long poem, so it would only take a few minutes, because Olia’s e-mails pressing him for more submissions were starting to clog up his inbox.

Finally he finished, sitting back and looking over the final product.

“Read it out loud.”

He raised an eyebrow at Lance, who was leaning toward him on the loveseat, his chin on his palm and his legs stretched out over the armrest. “You serious?”

“I mean, it’s something Veronica always told me to do with my writing. Since we speak two languages, sometimes I mix up words when I write and don’t realize it until I actually hear it. Doesn’t fix everything-- I still got C’s pretty often-- but it does help a little. I think.”

Keith tapped his finger on the keyboard a bit, then swallowed nervously. “Um, okay… well, I’ll give it a try.”

“Mmmm-hmm…” Lance’s feet kicked out behind him. He looked delighted.

“What?” His joy worried Keith. Was there something embarrassing about this?

“What? Huh? Oh, nothing. Pretend I’m not here.”

Sighing, Keith forced himself to look at the screen and read aloud.

“‘Shooting Stars,’ by Keith Kogane.”

`

 _“Shooting stars, a wasted wish,_ _  
_ _Like dandelions and wells,_  
_Rainbows and candles,_  
_Eyelashes and spells._

 _“We place our hopes and dreams_ _  
_ _With such high stakes_ _  
_ _On things that fade_  
_And things that break._

 _“And stars they burn and then they fall,  
_ _Taking our wishes with them,  
_ _Hurtling fast down to the ground,  
_ _In quiet, contained mayhem._

 _“Folding wishes tight and neat,  
__“To fit in our throwing hands,  
__And hurl them into blackened skies_  
_As far and high as we can._

 _“Hoping if the timing’s right,  
_ _It can hit the burning trail  
Before the star shoots out of sight, _  
_Before its light will fail._

 _“Knowing most don’t go anywhere,_ _  
_ _Always right back down._  
_Burning, blazing, into dust,_  
_Don’t even hit the ground._

 _“Wasting effort every time,_ _  
_ _On wishes doomed from the start.  
__We must not want them granted at all,  
__Somewhere deep in the heart._

 _“But even knowing this I can’t help but try,_ _  
_ _As if answering destiny’s call,_ _  
_ _Tossing wishes into the sky,_  
_For you to catch before they fall.”_

`

He stopped, the words fading out with his breath. “...well?”

Lance rolled over on the loveseat, practically laying his head on Keith’s lap. “Hmmmm… I liked it. Weirdly enough, it doesn’t sound as angsty when you read it out loud. Especially that last part. I don’t know, it sounds more… hopeful.” He paused, smiling up at Keith. “So who’d you write it for?”

“What do you mean?”

“In that last part, you say ‘you,’ like it’s for someone special. I’m just curious who it is.”

“...I don’t really know. My dad, I guess. Maybe my mom.”

“So like… not a middle school crush?”

“No. I never felt strongly enough about anyone to write poetry for them until after I graduated high school.”

At this, Lance sat up, his eyes twinkling. “What? Keith had a _cruuuuush?_ Who was it?! Can I Facebook stalk them?”

“No.” Keith answered flatly, attaching the document to his e-mail to Olia and pressing send.

“You’re no fun,” Lance pouted.

“I thought you were used to that by now.”

~

By the time of Keith’s birthday party, it almost seemed as if Shiro and Adam had never broken up. They’d gone kind of psycho with the celebrations, actually, inviting everyone Keith had ever felt mildly affectionate toward, renting out the old town hall for the party, although the ghost of Jennifer Louise was no longer there, and covering it in balloons and streamers.

When Keith walked in and saw all of the decorations, he scowled at Adam. “Seriously? I’m turning 19, it’s not like I saved the universe or something.”

Adam shrugged, jumping down from the chair he was standing on to tape up the happy birthday banner. “It was mostly Takashi. He said that you guys haven’t had many chances to just be kids in a really long time, so you deserved it. How could I turn that down?”

Crossing his arms, Keith leaned against the corner and frowned at the people milling about. “...you really aren’t… weirded out by the ghost… stuff?”

“Well… I was at first,” Adam admitted. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? But I’ve known you for a long time, Keith. Maybe not as well as Takashi, but I remember all of the stuff you’ve gone through. If falling in love with a ghost is the first time you’ve been happy, then I’m with you.”

Keith felt his skin heat up. “It sounds really embarrassing when you say it like that.”

“Couldn’t resist,” he chuckled. “But go hang out with your friends. Acxa won’t admit it, but she’s a monster at Twister.”

“There’s Twister?”

~

They played a lot of games, Keith not really having a favorite, so letting everyone choose one to play until they got tired of it. First there was the Mario Kart showdown (Pidge), then surprisingly violent card game suggestion from Allura, called Egyptian Rat Slap, where the slaps got so vicious after a while that they decided to outlaw anyone wearing rings, and yes, that included engagement rings. They still all got their butts kicked by Allura. Then Hunk’s more timid suggestion of Charades, which Keith was bad at because he didn’t understand nearly as many pop culture references as he thought he did.

A lot of these, Keith noticed that Lance felt left out in, especially as long as the other guests, whether police officer or Latino neighbor, were playing. Finally, he pulled out of the game of Charades and got some punch, gulping it while he stood next to Lance.

“What do you want to do?”

“Me?”

“Well yeah. Did you really think I would forget about you?”

“...kind of.”

“Seriously?”

“...forget about it. I mean, I’d suggest something, but I can’t play with everyone here.”

“Just the gang, then.”

“...how about volleyball?”

~

“What?! No, nononono, Lance and Keith CANNOT be on the same team! Keith and Allura are the only ones who can see him right now!” Hunk complained, testing the strength of the net behind the building.

“Okay, fine. Lance and Allura are on Hunk’s side. Pidge and I will be on Keith’s.” Shiro sighed.

“What about Adam?”

“Oh, I’ll… be a referee.”

“Oh, come on. Play against me,” Shiro jabbed.

“There’s an odd number.”

“Chicken.”

“Takashi.”

“Scared?”

Adam’s mouth twitched. “You don’t want to do this.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Keith watched the exchange and was a bit surprised to see Shiro teasing like this, it was…

 _Oh god, they were flirting_.

He tried not to hurl and began to suggest someone step out, when Matt came around the building. “Hey, sorry I’m late! I had an afternoon class… are you guys gonna play?”

“Once Adam stops being scared.”

Adam’s eye twitched, and he turned to Matt with a dangerously friendly smile. “Do you want to play, Matt? You can be on Pidge’s team.”

“...uh, I guess, sure!”

Adam grinned devilishly and stood next to Allura. “Alright, let’s play.”

~

They got demolished.

Lance, even without the obvious advantage of being invisible to most, also was just… really good at the game. He was always in the right place at the right time, worked _really_ well with Hunk, even without speaking or gesturing, and even when he _did_ mess up, Allura was able to cover pretty quickly with miracle-like digs.

The ball went sailing up, and Adam smashed it down with a spike just over Shiro’s head, delighting in this.

“What’s wrong, Keith? You ever played volleyball before?” Lance jabbed, scooping up the ball and returning to serving position.

“If you weren’t dead already I would _kill_ you.”

“That’s the spirit!”

But overall, they got covered in sand, Keith got grass burn on his knees, and he felt pretty good, even though they were losing so badly, despite the actually amazing teamwork of the Holt siblings. By the time they returned to the building to open presents and cut cake, it was getting dark out.

Keith wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but as much like a child as he felt… he didn’t actually mind. He’d never actually had a birthday party, not since his father had passed away. It felt… nice, as if he was getting back time he’d never had.

Most things were small. Hunk made a cat tree for Red and Blue, and was the one who baked his cake. Pidge gave him some “Cosmos” DVDs. Allura gave him some new incense. Some of the officers gave him gifts, too, but there were two things that stuck out most.

Number one: Shiro and Adam got him a car.

It was old, and rusting, but it worked and it had new tires and…

“Are you serious?”

Adam leaned into Shiro’s arm around his shoulders. “I know right now you’re pretty comfortable getting around on your bike, but… if you ever need to commute, whether it’s because you have a new job… or if you decide to go to school, you’ll need a set of wheels.”

Keith grinned. “Wanna race, Shiro?”

“Uh… officially? No.”

“There’s an empty parking lot three blocks down.”

“...let’s go.”

“Uh-uh, NOPE,” Hunk stopped, shoving them all back in the building. “We still haven’t had cake! And I didn’t slave over that thing for three hours just for the birthday boy to not eat it!”

Number two: Kolivan’s present.

“I wasn’t sure if I should give this to you. But here.”

Keith looked at the piece of paper he’d given him, unfolding it and seeing a name and address. “What--?”

“A long time ago, when we first got you into the station, you asked us to help you find your mom. We finally got some leads.”

Keith’s heart spiked. “Are you… serious?”

“If you don’t want to go down that road, it’s up to you. But I thought I should give it to you anyway.”

Then Lance, over his shoulder. “This is great, Keith! You can find your family, too!”

“...yeah. I guess. Yeah I can.”

~

He held onto Kolivan’s gift, even after cutting cake, and saying goodbyes to the guests, and driving his new car back to his apartment complex, Lance next to him in the passenger’s seat, jabbering away.

But he fell silent, frowning over at Keith. “Hey, you okay?”

“...Not… really.”

“Because of your mom?”

“...yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“...do you want to watch TV until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore?” Keith suggested.

“Oh you know I’m always down for a binge-watch.”

Keith smiled, his heart relaxing a bit. He didn’t need to decide on anything right away. It was alright.

~

He got sick before he decided anything.

Not a little sick, either. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and then he was freezing, and he was throwing up so often he was constantly dehydrated.

He saw everything in bits of fever.

Lance, panicking at first, then pulling the blankets off of him and covering him in new ones. Covering his eyes with a cool, wet towel, resting his hands against the sides of Keith’s face, asking if that felt good.

“Mhmmph” was all that Keith could manage, even if it didn’t get Lance to keep his hands there as long as Keith wanted.

Red scratching at him for food, headbutting his face, meowing. Lance urging the cat to stop pestering him and let Keith sleep. Red hissing at him.

“Seriously, cat, I’m not going to hurt you! Now I need you to move so I can get some water into him!”

More hissing.

“Okay, fine.”

Yowling.

“Yeah, yeah, scratch at me all you want; it’s not going to do anything.”

And then Keith lost consciousness again, until hot liquid was trickling down his throat, and he peeled his eyelids open to see Lance, even though his eyes felt like they were boiling. “Lance?”

“Shhh, you need to eat. I had to order egg drop soup from the Chinese restaurant, since I can’t leave you here. The delivery was interesting, but it worked.”

“...the cats?”

“Uhhh… don’t worry about that. I got it.”

“Lance?”

"Yeah?"

“I’m glad you’re here.”

The bowl of soup fell through Lance’s hands, soaking into the sheets. Lance swore in both English and Spanish, hurrying to clean up the mess.

“Um, I would call Hunk or something, but I can’t use your phone, and I, uh…”

“No. I’m glad it’s you.”

“...shut up and go back to sleep.”

~

He woke up again to Red curled up next to him, atop the towel laid down on the spot Lance had spilled the soup. The cat woke up when he moved, chirruping and rubbing his face against Keith’s cheek.

“You keeping watch over me, kitty?” Keith croaked, reaching up to stroke Red’s head as much as he could.

Red meowed, his tail flicking in the air.

“You know, you have to let Lance help, or I won’t get better.”

Red plopped down again, resting his head on his tail.

“Just a thought.”

~

“HEY, no biting! I know I can’t feel it but still! Bad manners! See, I’m just changing his towels! Not hurting him!”

Loud, protesting yowl.

“You’re making this difficult.”

Scratching sounds.

“Blue, can you sit on him for a while until Allura gets here with that chicken noodle soup? Yeah, that’s a good girl. Unlike _someone_.”

Muffled angry meow.

~

When the fever finally broke, the sun was rising, and Lance was sitting next to him on the bed, both cats curled up between them.

Keith looked down at Red, where his tail swished through Lance’s leg. “He finally stopped fighting you?”

Lance set down the bowl of chicken noodle soup, leaning back against the pillows. “I think he finally realized I was trying to help.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He… really loves you, huh?”

“I guess.”

“And Blue loves you, too. So if Red kinda loves me now…”

“He’s not as much of an asshole as you thought?”

“...nevermind.”

~

Pidge’s vlogs had gotten pretty popular, now that they weren’t getting blocked because they were being filmed without permission. Or at least that’s what Shiro said the reason was. Actually, Keith was pretty sure it was because they’d gotten much more exciting, on average. It seemed like a lot of her audience was kids and teenagers, but it seemed like the closer the Ghost Gang (as Lance had decided to call the group, even though he was the only ghost) got to death, the more views the episode got.

Of course, plenty of people called them “obvious hoaxes,” or pointed out nonexistent wires, or commented on how good the special effects were for a group of Gen Zers. But Pidge was proud to tell all of them about how well her theories were developing, and how much interest they were generating in the scientific community. Apparently she even had a few big wigs who studied paranormal phenomena as a hobby interested.

Of course, she and Matt both created the theories, since they were both geniuses and all, but Matt was actually pretty busy being the official head of the organization, now that they were grudgingly recognized by the city government. As far as day-to-day operations, pretty much everyone knew that Pidge was in charge, but as far as the city was concerned, a 15-year-old girl could not be the head of the club. So Matt was the one who ended up making most of the permission-seeking phone calls, or digging for new cases, finding leads. He was actually pretty good at the detective-work stuff.

The vlog would be going on a hiatus for a while soon, though, when the Holts went down to Florida to watch a rocket launching, and then go to Disney and Universal Studios. So before that happened, Pidge decided to have kind of a “season finale,” as Lance termed it. But Pidge was more partial to the term “final boss.”

They were going to go back to the old Holt house.

The episode filming was pretty emotional. Before actually going, they found it was important to tell the viewers the story, so they would know why it was such a big deal. So they sat down in the “clubhouse” (the Holt family’s basement), and explained the whole thing in front of the camera. Both siblings seemed to remember things slightly differently, with Matt’s memories actually being more emotional than Pidge’s, but ultimately, it ended the same way: packing their stuff and then burning down their own home.

“So why are you so determined to go back?” Keith asked from behind the camera, doing his best to sound like a proper interviewer.

“It feels like… something we have to do,” Matt answered, but Pidge leaned forward, toward the camera.

“I want to show our viewers the importance of facing your fears. When I was little, that place was the worst place on Earth. But I’ve grown up. I’ve seen things, I’ve found explanations I didn’t have back then. That changes everything.”

Matt swallowed, straightening. “It’s true that this is an emotional choice for me and Pidge, but we’re glad we have the rest of the crew. They’re the reason we came this far and learned this much. And who knows? Maybe there’s nothing there, and this story is the only thing we record for this episode. But as scientists, the pursuit of knowledge is most important. We can’t know for sure until we see for ourselves.”

Keith stopped the recording, giving them the thumbs-up. “Well, that’s step one. And then step two is this weekend, right?”

“Right. Thanks for coming with us, Keith.”

“What about Lance?” Matt asked, coming to the video camera and rewinding it until it got to the beginning of the interview.

“What about him?”

“Is he coming?”

“No, since we’re going to be gone so long, he’s taking care of the cats.”

Rolling her eyes, Pidge snorted, “God, you’re like a married couple.”

“We are not _married._ We’ve only been together for like six months.”

“Oh, so you are a couple, then?”

“What, no!” but he could feel his face heating up. “I meant I’ve only been living there for six months!”

Pidge raised an eyebrow, peering at him. “I was just teasing, Keith, geez.”

“...I better get back and get ready for work. See you on Friday, alright?”

“Yeah, sure. But don’t forget, you’re the only one of us with a car now, so you have to pick everyone up!”

“Yeah I got it.”

~

They’d been doing the ghost-hunting thing for long enough, all of them had kind of developed specific jobs.

Keith was almost always the one who went in first, to survey the place, and was almost always the one who first found the ghost.

Hunk volunteered to be camera operator, because it allowed him to be as far away from the action as possible without actually running away. He was also maintenance and inventor, creating some new equipment for the search. For example, a pair of ghost-sighting goggles that Matt was beta-testing.

Allura, obviously, worked to sense, identify, or calm any spirits, and usually totally stole the spotlight from everyone else. She was the most popular crew member.

Matt was the researcher and fact-checker, finding out the story of the haunting and narrating it to the camera, preparing everyone as much as possible.

And, finally, Pidge, who manned the measurements, explained phenomena after the encounters, and, if there was actually no ghost at all, figured out scientific explanations for the claim of haunting.

This time, Matt’s debrief was short, and in Keith’s car on the way out of town.

“Pidge and I have already explained what we know about the ghost from experience, but I did a bit of digging on the house’s history.” He pulled out a scan of an old newspaper, showing an old, faded black-and-white photo of a trio of people: a mother, father, and young boy. “Basically, the house was bought by the Drazil family in the twenties during the boom, and they were eventually planning to raise horses on the land. Unfortunately, the parents were caught in a thunderstorm when on their way to retrieve their first horse, and drove into the river. Their young son, Evan, apparently died trying to make himself food, since his parents never came home.”

He put the paper back in his pocket, frowning. “So Evan is definitely our ghost.”

Hunk sniffled. “That's so sad… he was just waiting for his parents to come home…”

“Hang on, Hunk. Keep in mind that that little kid was capable of throwing furniture around the house and tried to _kill me_ ,” Pidge warned. “Several times.”

“I mean, I know, but… he was just a little kid!”

“It does seem a bit… unusual for a ghost to become so violent over a death without a crime,” Allura commented. “But I suppose, this is the first time I have encountered one who has been dead so long.”

“We’re almost here,” Keith announced, turning onto a worn gravel road. Hunk shut the camera off, sitting back.

“Huh, this is a pretty cute neighborhood,” he noted, leaning against the car windows. “At least it would be, if a terrifying child ghost didn’t haunt it.”

Keith pulled into the remains of a driveway, parking the car. “We don’t know if he’s still there. If he was attached to an object, like Lance is, he would have been destroyed when Pidge and Matt burned the place down.”

Allura gave Keith a weird look, but Hunk had his camera on his shoulder and was urging Keith forward before he could ask her what it was about.

He pushed forward, to the burned ruins of the house, basically just scraps of charcoal leading into a concrete basement.

“Allura, you sense anything?” he called out, peering over the place where the grass stopped and the ground plunged ten feet.

She came up next to him, frowning. “It’s… I am uncertain. It is difficult to tell, in daylight like this. If there is a ghost here, it is dormant.”

“Floating in Lance’s ‘other place’?” he suggested.

“Yes, I assume so.”

“Well, the sun’s going down in an hour, so we might as well wait here,” Matt commented, glancing at his watch.

“Feel like exploring?” Keith asked Allura, gesturing toward the unearthed basement.

“Yes, lets.”

They lowered themselves down, Keith catching Allura when she slipped on some loose sod and then calmly setting her down.

“Not much to see down here,” he said, noting that much of the house’s burned timber had landed in the basement, and there was a lot of it to crawl over.

“Yeah, we never used the basement much,” Pidge called down. “I dunno, Allura, I’m getting some dim electromagnetic activity, even though the power’s been out at this place for years.”

“Interesting.”

“Well, we _did_ decide to come a little bit earlier than usual, so that we could see the damage on camera before we encountered any ghosts,” Keith remarked.

“Well, we might as well dig through the rubble, try to find anything interesting,” Allura suggested.

They didn’t actually get very far before the light began to fade.

Suddenly Allura stood up straight, her pupils dilated. “We need to get out of this basement _now_.”

“What? Why--?”

“NOW!”

He did as ordered, rushing to a fallen beam leaning up and out of the basement and shimmying up it, climbing faster as a shadow fell over the ruins.

He reached the top, leaning down to reach out to Allura, to pull her up quickly, before--

“I can’t believe you’d come _back.”_

A high-pitched, nasally voice, soft on some consonants. A child’s voice.

Keith looked up, seeing the young boy from Matt’s photo hovering in the air above the hole to the basement, glowering above the rest of the crew.

“Where are you looking?” the child asked, glaring down at Matt and Pidge, who were coming toward them, toward Keith. “Look at me!”

“They can’t see him yet,” Allura whispered to Keith, slowly lifting herself up the beam. “I haven’t performed the spell!”

“It’s fine, just hurry and get out while his attention is still on the Holts!”

Keith grabbed Allura’s arm, hauling her up while watching the ghost out of his peripheral vision.

“Matt, what’s up?” Pidge asked, from a distance.

“Oh, it looks like Keith and Allura are coming out. I just thought I’d help…” he shivered, despite his jacket. “It’s colder than I thought it would be.”

Keith finally pulled Allura up onto the grass, then jumped into a sprint just as he heard some of the burned timber move behind him. He managed to reach Matt just in time, knocking him to the ground just as a chunk of charred wall went sailing through the place he’d just been.

“OH MY GOD!” Hunk screeched, half-hidden behind the some trees, half-hidden behind the camera.

Matt got to his feet, pushing the prototype goggles down over his eyes. “I don’t think they work, Hunk!” he yelled, scanning the wreckage.

“You have to turn them on!” Hunk yelled back.

“Right!”

He pressed a button on the side, dodging another bit of timber, even though the ghost child hadn’t moved at all.

Allura ran to Pidge, who was staring at the wreckage in awe, her instruments forgotten for a brief moment while she breathed, “so you _are_ still here.”

And then everything exploded into chaos.

It was as if there was a windless tornado swirling around the house, and only the house. Burned wood whipped through the air all around them, crashing through the trees, toward the ground, embedding itself deep into the grass.

Allura opened her pack, ducking behind Keith’s car and grabbing her implements, shouting, “I need to be touching you all!”

They needed to be able to see the ghost before they could stand a chance at taking it on. Especially Pidge.

Keith dodged debris to get to Matt’s side as Pidge was knocked aside by a table half, flying through the air.

“KATIE!” Matt screamed.

“Matt,” Keith urged, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from launching toward his sister. “Matt, do the goggles work?!”

“Yeah, kind of! He’s just a blob, but…”

“Good enough! You and I have to distract him while Allura works her magic on Pidge and Hunk.”

Matt blanked for a second, his eyes behind the goggles clearly travelling to where his sister was groaning, struggling to her feet and ducking behind the car with Allura. The car, which was getting quite a beating already. Adam was gonna kill him.

And then, Matt nodded.

“HEY, I’M THE ONE WHO SET FIRE TO YOUR HOUSE!” he shouted, running toward the ruined basement eagerly. “You mad?!”

“How could you?!” the ghost screeched, as if on the verge of tears. “I just wanted to play! And then YOU! You took away my playmate!”

Matt dodged debris, rolling through the grass.

“And then you told me you were gonna play, but you DIDN’T! You BURNED everything! You ruined everything!”

Keith grabbed a rock from the ground and chucked it through the ghost’s chest, remembering what Lance had said about the sensation, once.

_Kinda… tingly. But also kinda like being stabbed. Without that nasty side effect._

It definitely got the ghost’s attention.

It was partly a good thing, because it meant Keith could see Hunk taking the opportunity to haul ass through the trees to join Allura behind the car, but the bad thing was that the ghost’s gaze was now focused on _Keith_ , spears of wood flying his direction.

He rolled to avoid them, grabbing one of them and chucking it back at the ghost like a javelin, which sounds awesome in writing, but actually was extremely painful due to the dozens of splinters that immediately embedded themselves into his skin.

What followed was a game of cat-and-mouse, if the cat was a ridiculously powerful psychokinetic cat. But there were two mice, and in a game that’s all about survival, that made all the difference.

Keith and Matt didn’t make as good of a tag-team as Pidge and Matt, but it was doable, both of them circling the ghost in different directions and throwing things through it to get its attention. If the child weren’t so deadly, Keith would feel a bit like a bully, doing this to a little kid, but… it _was_ trying to kill them.

Finally the other trio popped out from behind Keith’s car just as one of the windows was punctured by a flying metal pipe, Allura calling out that it was done.

Three more mice in the fray.

“WHAT ARE WE DOING WE SHOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THIS!” Hunk screamed, barely bothering to record at this point.

“Allura, what’s the hold up?!” Keith yelled, noting the ghost’s aura grow. “We can’t calm this kid until he stops trying to kill us!”

“I don’t know! The spell isn’t working! He’s just… resisting everything I throw at him!”

How could such a young kid be so powerful?

“You took away everything… are you the ones who killed mommy and daddy, too?”

“Of course not!” Keith shouted. “Your parents died in an accident!”

“You killed them I knew it!” the ghost insisted, finally moving from its spot, gripping Keith in an invisible hand and lifting him off of the ground. “Your fault. You came back, you ruined everything. You’re her new friend, right? Well I’M her friend, so you can _just die!”_

The air was being crushed out of his lungs, even as he thought about how something in the ghost’s voice sounded wrong, inhuman, unlike any ghost he’d encountered before, even the dangerous ones.

And then a teenage voice, soft and gentle, but more threatening than Keith had ever heard it before:

“You should put him down, kiddo.”

 _No way_.

Lance was there, floating between him and the ghost child, light radiating off of him as if he was some kind of blue angel.

“Who… who are you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Are you… are you dead? Like… like me?”

“Yup.”

“I can’t… I can’t hold the black-haired boy anymore. You’re… you’re protecting him, aren’t you?”

It was true. Sweet oxygen was rushing into Keith’s shrunken lungs, bursting into his bloodstream as he was lowered slowly back to the ground.

All around them, the debris was still flying, the night still dark, but in a tiny bubble behind Lance, everything was safe, and quiet, and still.

He wasn’t nearly as powerful as the child ghost. But he was powerful enough.

Lance ducked through the debris, wrapping his arms around the kid and forcing him to the ground, even though his light dimmed from the effort.

“LET GO OF ME!”

“Sorry, but you need some help.”

Allura and Pidge came forward, both scratched up, bruised, and Pidge was holding a hand just under her chest, possibly for a cracked rib.

“You… just wanted to see your parents again, right?” Pidge gasped, half-leaning on Allura. “Why’d you… why’d you try to hurt me?”

“Play! Play play, play!”

“No, _niño._ Sometimes you really do have to listen to the grown-ups.”

“Grown ups die! Grown ups stop seeing me and they don’t want to play and they leave me alone and I--”

Allura finished the spell she’d been uttering, her magical rope curling around the boy, and finally, Lance let go, looking exhausted.

The others were talking to the ghost, talking it down, asking it questions, but Lance was coming to him, straight to him, his light dimmed and his chest heaving but eyes wide, dropping to his knees in front of Keith and pressing his hands to the sides of Keith’s face as he looked him up and down for injuries.

“You all look like _hell_ are you alright?! Did I get here too late?!”

“How are you here at all?!”

“Doesn’t matter. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Probably bruised, but Pidge is worse off. Why are you here?”

“I…” Lance slouched forward, still not letting go of Keith’s face. “I just… felt like you needed me. And you know me, I’m your friendly neighborhood ghost, Loverboy Lance.”

He looked up at Keith with an expression so pained, so opposite of his words that it tore the breath from Keith’s lungs and he had to force himself to cough a laugh. “This isn’t even your neighborhood.”

“Maybe not. But you’re still my… my roommate.”

~

The drive home was painful and freezing, thanks to the broken window. The first stop was a hospital, where they _all_ had to get checked, and the hospital asked for an explanation.

“We were… caught in small tornado,” Keith lied, since he figured “ghost hunting” would get him sent to the psych ward.

And then, of course, they _had_ to call the Holt parents, and Hunk’s parents, both because of morality and also because they were the ones with the health insurance.

He was afraid Colleen Holt was going to _kill_ Matt for letting Pidge get so injured, having cracked a pair of ribs, but mostly she was in tears, thankful that her children had survived.

Hunk seemed pretty okay, having gotten away with cuts and minor bruises, so he was the first to be released, but Keith and Allura were told to stay the night, after Keith had had his splinters removed, although they were told that the worst of their injuries were some bad chest bruises.

The real rough part was when he had to call Shiro.

“Oh, hey, yeah, I’m in the hospital. Just figured I’d tell you.”

“You’re in the WHAT?!”

“Uhhhh… yeah, the hospital. I mean, I just have some bruised ribs, but Pidge broke a few.”

“I thought you guys were just going to Pidge’s old house today?!”

Muffled noises in the background, followed by a distant “Takashi? What’s wrong?”

“ _Keith_ and crew are in the _hospital_.”

“WHAT?!”

Keith winced again. “I’m starting to regret telling you. Look, Ryner gives me health insurance. You don’t need to worry. Hunk’s already cleared to go home. They just told Allura and I to spend the night. And Pidge, but her family’s here. Matt’s about the same as I am.”

“What… happened?”

“That little kid was… he was absolutely nuts. We tried talking to him, but it was like he was barely even a person anymore. One second he would sound like a spoiled child and then he’d be… something else. Eventually Allura had to exorcise him. Which she didn’t want to do. Apparently forced exorcism means that the ghost’s judgement is automatically not in his favor.”

“Keith… there’s something about this that’s bothering you.”

“...no, I’m fine, Shiro. I’ll drop by once I get out of the hospital. Tell Adam I’m sorry for waking him up.”

He hung up the phone and, according to his nurse’s insistence, returned to the room he was supposed to share with Matt, were he not sitting in his sister’s room. But it was far from empty. Lance leaned against the wall, looking up when Keith came back in.

“Is he mad?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Keith, I…”

Whatever he’d been about to say, it was interrupted by Coran stepping through the wall, his orange-and-black look shocking against the bland white of the hospital room.

“Good gracious, Lance, what’ve you been doing?! The people upstairs are quite annoyed, I’ll tell you!”

“I didn’t start the whole thing,” Lance answered defensively. “I just showed up to help Allura and the rest put a stop to it.”

“Oh… is that so?” Coran asked, narrowing his eyes. But then finally he shrugged, tapping his finger on the post of the cot. “Well now, Keith, you look downright awful!”

“It looks worse than it feels.”

“A ghost really do that to you?”

“Yeah. I’ve never met one this powerful before. Or this angry.”

“Ah, well… you’ve never met one so old before.”

Keith sat up, despite the pain in his ribs, leaning toward Lance. “You should go home, feed the cats.”

“But what about you?”

“Thank you for taking care of me when I was sick, Lance. But this is different.”

Lance looked about to argue, but stopped when he saw the look in Keith’s eye.

“Oh… okay. Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”

“Lance?”

"Yeah?"

“Thank you. For saving me back there. I… have a lot to say once I get back.”

Lance smiled weakly. “Then I guess I have something to look forward to.”

And then he disappeared.

Now that he was gone, Keith turned to Coran. “I need to ask you… what did you mean? Because it was an older ghost?”

Coran sighed, sitting on the edge of the cot and kicking his legs underneath him. “You haven’t seen it too badly, since the oldest ghost you’ve run into has been dead for about thirty years. But this kid was different, right? Almost a hundred.”

“Yes…”

“See, ghosts can’t sense as much as a living person can. They can see and hear, but they can’t smell, or feel sensations on their skin, or taste food. It’s a bit of a learning curve, getting used to that. At first, they feel too lost to even manifest! Whoo, but then they get used to it, and they’re good for a while. But ghosts stay on Earth because they’ve something they haven’t done. And the longer they’re kept from it… the longer they go feeling not quite right. Still on Earth but not _feeling_ like they used to. After a while, ghosts start to go right crazy!”

Keith’s stomach twisted into knots. “...and how long… does that take?”

“Depends on the ghost, honest. For some, it’s less than a year. Some take decades. But if they don’t pass on, they lose their heads. Sometimes even lose their memories of being human.”

He paused, looking at Keith. “You alright, my boy? You look a bit green.”

“I just… um… I need to sleep.”

“Ah well, I’ll let you get to it, then. You have something important to tell Lance, yes? Better not keep him waiting.” Coran jumped down off the cot, tapping the wall to re-open the shadow-gate. “Though I have a good idea what it is.”

“I’m sure you do.”

~

Keith entered the apartment as quietly as he could, wincing when the act of closing the door aggravated his bruises.

“You’re finally back. I was worried.”

Keith collapsed on the loveseat next to Lance, closing his eyes. “That makes two of us.”

“Why?”

Keith opened his eyes, even though he was frowning so deeply his forehead was starting to hurt. “Lance, I… why haven’t you moved on?”

“...that’s what you wanted to talk to me about?” Lance asked, his voice dangerously soft, disappointment carrying through in the barest of traces.

“It’s one of them, yeah. Lance, I’m worried about you. I thought… if I helped you find your family, you’d… be happy. And you’d, you know, pass on. But you didn’t.”

“Do you _want_ me to leave?!”

“No! No, I don’t!”

“Then what are you saying?!”

“God, no, of course I don’t want you to leave! I can’t remember one time before I met you that I was this happy. Even with… with the ghost-hunting, and the bruises, and you going through my stuff and reading my poetry… I was always _feeling_ something. But this isn’t _about_ what I want! It’s about you, and what you _need!”_

“You have no idea what I need!”

“If you stay in this world, you’ll go crazy,” Keith blurted. And based on the way Lance froze, he knew it. “Coran told me. God, Lance, I can’t stand the idea of you leaving. I couldn’t before and I can’t now. But thinking of you turning into the same kind of _thing_ that poor little kid turned into? That’s worse.”

“I can’t go.” Dangerously soft, again, even as he got to his feet.

“You _have to!”_

 _“I CAN’T!”_ The temperature in the room dropped, and Lance’s fists clenched, his gaze searching Keith’s helplessly. “I can’t, God, I can’t! Stop asking me to do something that’s impossible, alright? You expect me to just up and go, like it’s something I can do on command?! You think I can just tell my emotions ‘you’re dead already, it’s time to move on’?! Because I can’t! And you know, it doesn’t make any sense to me, because I don’t even have a heart! And yet here I am, a complete idiot who’s way too in love with you to leave just because you tell me to! _I can’t leave you behind!_ ”

Silence that stretched on for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, on into eternity.

_In love with you_

_Way too in love with you_

_Love with you_ _  
_ _Love_

“...you… love....me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know you don’t feel that way and I’m dead so it’s _stupid_ , but…”

“Lance, I love you.”

“...what?”

“I’ve loved you for… it’s been way too long to remember. I kept telling myself not to, but… I mean, you’re the one who reads the romance novels. You know how _that_ always works.”

“You’re serious?!”

“Is this the type of conversation I would start joking in?”

Lance collapsed onto the couch next to Keith, his eyes wide with as much awe as Keith was feeling in his heart.

“Really? Me?”

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Keith chided, forcing a smirk. “You are Loverboy Lance, after all.”

“.................Hot damn, I wish I could kiss you right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were roommates. Oh my god, they were roommates.
> 
> Egyptian Rat Slap/Rattail/Ratfuck/Ratscrew is the same game regardless of the name. Basically, as I know it, it’s like a combination between Slapjack and War, but it’s another one I have no idea where the rules come from, or if there are official rules, and everyone plays with slightly different ones. It is VERY violent and I have drawn blood before. On accident.
> 
> In the Great Lakes area, just about every house has a basement. Yes, they get flooded pretty often unless you have a good pumping system. But I guess it’s part of the culture of the area? Basements are good for storing food, and keeping the house cool. And, you know, hiding underground during tornadoes without having to RUN OUTSIDE to duck into a shelter (looking at you, Oklahoma)
> 
> Anyway, another super long chapter to celebrate me being back on the Klance train after recovering from Season 7, so I hope you enjoyed! THE SLOW BURN HAS FINALLY RESULTED IN FIIIIIIIREEEEEEE


	16. Tick Tock

It’s not easy to love a ghost. To want to touch, to hold, to kiss, and not be able to. It takes work, it takes some adapting. But Keith didn’t mind. He didn’t care.

It was enough to have Lance lay on his lap while they watched movies, his legs never falling asleep because he didn’t weigh anything.

It was enough to keep messing with the city government together, appropriating the food waste and using it for his local Latinx community.

It was enough to sit on the living room floor with their cats between them, telling what-if stories of who they would be if they had met before Lance died. If he had never died.

It was enough to keep waking up to Lance’s coffee in the afternoon.

It was enough to find some old clothes that Lance had left behind at Hunk’s place, and for some of his scent to linger on it, even after Hunk had washed it.

It was enough to have Lance lean against him on the loveseat, smiling as he read his poems out loud, so many of which were about him.

It was enough to come home from work and collapse on the bed, falling asleep next to Lance as the ghost ran his fingers through his hair, whispering sweet, cheesy things in his ears, often failing at putting him to sleep because he said something so funny that Keith instead was woken up by his own laughter.

True, Keith wanted more, always did. But knowing that he was allowed to love, to share, to belong so completely with someone, he didn’t regret anything. He wasn’t so greedy as to ask for more than that. Not when he’d been so certain he wouldn’t even be allowed to have it at all.

He was glad he had Lance when he finally convinced himself to search for his mother, to follow the trail of breadcrumbs starting with the name and address Kolivan had given him, leading him to a dangerous street gang originating on the East Coast but had opened operations two cities away-- one bad enough that the police, especially Shiro, warned him not to go looking into.

But he wasn’t worried. After all, how frightening could a group of living humans be, compared to the ghosts that he faced regularly?

This Krolia woman was involved in some deep stuff, Keith could tell, the further he dug. The family syndicate ran on violence and illegal drugs, one of the primary sources of opium in the region. He only hoped that somehow, his mother wasn’t responsible for it.

His ability to see ghosts ultimately turned out useful. He’d been about to sneak into one of the storage facilities and search it, call it in, or burn it down-- he hadn’t decided yet-- when a ghost had appeared next to the window, looking back and forth between him and Lance.

“You gonna take the family down?”

“Yes!” Lance answered excitedly, but Keith gave him a look, and shook his head.

“I’m just trying to find my mom.”

“She with the Galra syndicate?”

“Somehow.”

The ghost, a middle-aged, balding man, peered into the window. “Well, I wouldn’t go in through here. If I was you, I’d go in disguise. They’re always lookin’ for impressionable kids to haul stuff around.”

Keith nodded, acknowledging the ghost man’s help. “Lance usually scopes out before I go in.”

“Good strat. I’m just tired of seeing kids die, y’know? I, uh, used to be one of the drivers, but I talked. Got put down. So be careful, eh?”

“Thanks.”

~

“You really lead the most psycho life, you know that?” Lance whispered as Keith hid behind some boxes, watching some guards go by. “Make a pretty good autobiography, though. ‘Local teen fights homophobia, the paranormal, and an opium syndicate within two years’.”

Keith fought the urge to laugh. “And here I thought I was no fun.” He stopped, listening. “I need you to go see what they’re talking about in that meeting. Even if I’m not here to be a Good Samaritan, I feel like I owe Captain Kolivan something.”

Lance nodded, drifting quickly after the guards, leaving Keith alone. Or maybe not.

 _Footsteps_.

He spun, lashing out with his knife, halting at the gun pressed to his head.

A woman’s face, heart-shaped. Olive skin, dark, almost black eyes, widening as she looked at his face.

“Keith?” she breathed, pulling the gun back.

“You… you’re Krolia.”

“What are you doing here?!” she hissed, leaning back against the boxes. “And you’ve grown so much, I--”

“You’re really… my mom?”

She took a deep breath, nodding seriously. “Yes. Now come on, I can’t have you staying here long.”

“What?! No, I’m not leaving here without you. Do you know how long I--?!”

“Shhh, we can’t talk about this now. Come on.”

Lance caught up to them just as they were getting caught by the guards, whose patrol patterns had changed.

“Woah, Krolia, what’re you doin’?! Who’s the kid?!”

Keith had been afraid that they were going to get in a full-on firefight, but Lance had thought pretty quickly, pushing over some of the pallets of illegal weapons, loud enough chaos for even some of the major leaders to come running.

The police swarmed the building just as Keith and Krolia knocked over the distracted guards and got out.

~

Kolivan handed him a hot chocolate at the station, patting his shoulder emotionlessly. “Thank you, Keith. I’m sorry we have to take your mother in for questioning, but…”

“No, it’s okay… I get it.”

“Although I recall telling you to stop letting your emotions get in the way. That once you strayed into dangerous territory, you were to stop doing things on your own and contact the force instead?”

“I _did_ contact you.”

“Only after you’d already infiltrated. As usual, Kogane, you walk a fine line.”

Keith’s gaze strayed over to the door to the interrogation room, where his mother had been for hours now. “I guess it runs in my family.”

When Kolivan left him to go back to the mass imprisonment of the Galra syndicate, Lance reappeared at his side, frowning. “You really okay?”

“I… honestly don’t know. I was just starting to move on from all of this… and now she’s here and…” he froze, his heart rate increasing. “How am I going to explain to her that my boyfriend’s a ghost?”

Lance snorted, leaning against his side. “The same way she explains to you that she’s a member of a powerful drug family?”

~

While the whole case was going down, the police force allowed Krolia to stay at a nearby motel, until better accommodations could be found. There, they could be allowed to talk.

“I’ll leave you alone for this,” Lance announced as Keith stood in front of the room’s door, despite the worry in his voice. “Gotta go take care of the cats, right?”

“...thanks, Lance.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Once the ghost disappeared, he steeled himself and knocked on the door, swallowing when Krolia opened it.

“There’s… so much to say, I--”

“Why did you leave?”

“Excuse me?”

“You were… what, an undercover cop? How did that stop you from ever coming back? And Dad… you never even came to his funeral.”

Krolia’s eyes widened and she sat down quickly onto the motel bed, collapsing inward. “Oh… so your father’s dead.” She swallowed, her gaze hardening. “I understand your anger, Keith. Whatever questions you have, I’ll answer. Even the ones I’m not supposed to.”

And she did. As much as Keith hated to admit it, she was… easy to talk to. Straightforward, honest, and strong. She told him about being born into the family, watching her father do awful things, doing some of them herself. Then she’d been recruited by Kolivan, unflinchingly working as an inside agent to take down her own family.

“That work led me to your father. I was chasing down a lead-- one of the family’s supply chains-- and I got surprised by a car bomb. Your father found me. Saved my life. And I… felt peace. I was far away from all of that, from my family, from the drugs, and I had you, and I never wanted to leave.”

“But you did.”

“I left to keep you safe. Once they found me again, I either had the choice to stay, and have them come after me and my family as punishment for abandoning the syndicate, or I could go back to them. It wasn’t much of a choice at all. I guess Kolivan must’ve transferred to this city after that. Interesting that he’s made captain now. He… tells me you’re quite a troublemaker.”

At this, Keith finally felt himself smile. “You have no idea.”

~

It took some time for him to get used to having a mom. He was gone from home long hours, testifying before the courts, or helping her find a new home, showing her his poems, published in collections.

She met Shiro, thanking him and Adam for raising her son.

She met the rest of the gang, listening intently to the stories of their adventures, immensely entertained by the vlogs. She was doubtful of Lance, and his love for her son, but Keith insisted. He would never have tried to find her if it weren’t for Lance.

She took him on road trips, visiting his dad’s grave, showing him the best places she knew, the best scenery, and told him as much as she could about her family, the moments that weren’t so bad.

They spent two years that way, as the leaders of the syndicate were taken down, Adam and Kolivan’s precincts working together intensely almost round the clock. Keith helped, when he was needed, but turned down Shiro’s offer to train to be a police officer. He might go down that road someday, but he needed to figure out what he was doing with his poetry, first.

But even after a day of exploration with his mother, his apartment with Lance and his cats was still his happy place. The space of his new normal. Even as he got on friendly terms with his neighborhood, learning Spanish a little at a time.

Then there was Shiro and Adam’s wedding, _finally_ , which, despite its simplicity, Keith was forced to be the best man and squirm uncomfortably when drunk older women tried to find him a dance partner, because he “looked lonely,” especially when they decided he really should go flirt with Officer Acxa. Apparently, despite being at a gay wedding, the hets were up to their usual BS. He respected Acxa, liked her, even, but she was older than he was, and, well… he was gay.

He got away from them by dancing with Hunk, who was an absolute beast at the polka and was happy to teach everyone. Actually, he was happy to dance with all of his friends, and his mom, because he really did feel happy at seeing Shiro and Adam happy. It felt like everything in his life was falling together, no matter how temporary it might be.

They still kept the ”throwing of the bouquet” thing, only Shiro accidentally threw it WAY too hard and Keith _almost_ caught it, but the thing flew just over his fingertips and went through Lance’s chest. So apparently no one in the wedding party was getting married any time soon. But it was still hilarious to watch Shiro’s face redden and have him embarrassingly offer for Adam to do it next time.

It turned out to be a good night, hets be damned. Shiro even had a secret moment planned for him, where all of the lights went out, so the dancefloor was so dark that no one could judge Keith for dancing alone, even though he wasn’t. He hadn’t been alone in a very, very long time.

~

He wasn’t unprepared for his mother to leave again.

“I’m not disappearing completely this time,” Krolia explained, frowning. “I can stay in contact, call sometimes, come and visit. I just… there are still some contacts of the syndicate in other parts of the country, and I have to help root them out.”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

She smiled, pulling him into a hug. “I love you, Keith.”

“I love you, too.”

“You’ll be too happy to miss me.”

~

He wouldn’t say he was too happy to miss his mom, but he was definitely happy. He and Lance frequently went out and did something new, something weird, experiencing parts of the city Keith had walked by but never even noticed. And they would come home exhausted, but eager to do it all over the next day.

Lance was annoyed by how much he’d grown over the past two years, boldly declaring that if he weren’t dead, he’d definitely have another growth spurt, which would make him taller than Keith again. Keith doubted it, since Lance wasn’t exactly short, but still loved watching Lance stretch himself out to be as tall next to Keith as possible.

One afternoon, shortly after waking up, Keith rolled over and looked at Lance, playing with Red on the foot of the bed.

“You know, you never told me what your number one and two on the list were.”

Lance turned, ignoring Red tackling him for the shoelace in his hand. “I guess we _did_ go to a Beyonce concert, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, and I was broke for two weeks.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah and you survived purely on food donations from Hunk, Pidge and Allura.”

He flopped over, his head next to Keith’s on the pillow. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“Maybe.”

“Geez, you’re supposed to say, ‘oh no, Lance, I wouldn’t laugh’!”

“Why would I do that? You make me laugh all the time.”

Lance’s face twisted, but Keith could tell he was pleased. “Okay, well, number one was to be in a relationship.”

Keith sat up, raising an eyebrow. “What, you never… actually dated anyone?”

“Don’t sound so shocked; you make me sound like a manwhore. No, I went on _dates_ , but apparently I’m too high-maintenance for a lot of people.” He hid his face behind his arm. “Or maybe I just wasn’t with the right person.”

_Melt._

“Well, I guess I granted that one?”

Lance pulled his arm down, grinning like an idiot. “Oh yeah, big time. I guess you could say you’re my biggest wish.”

Keith threw a pillow through him. “God, you are so cheesy.”

“Okay, and number two… I wanted to go back to Cuba. Just once, you know?”

“...that’s a little out of budget for me.”

Lance shook his head. “It’s okay. I think one out of two is still a pretty good score.”

“Really? Isn’t that still a failing grade?”

“GOD, Keith, I’m trying to be ROMANTIC, here!”

And at this, Keith laughed. But then again, he never said he wouldn’t.

~

_Dear Mr. Kogane,_

_Have you considered attending college and increasing your repertoire? Not a requirement, of course-- many famous poets were even high school dropouts! I have liked the new, more positive direction your poetry has taken, but I really think that with some classical training, you could take it to the next level. I’m happy to write a recommendation letter for anywhere you decide to apply!_

_Anyway, this letter is also about your newest stuff, as usual asking for more submissions. We had a writer drop out last minute, so we can give you a few extra pages if you want them. Oh, and you should’ve gotten your royalties in direct deposit. Sorry it’s not much, but, well, we can only pay you for how many books are sold. Still, I hope you keep on it!_

_Best hopes,_

_Olia Larson, Sub-editor_

_`_

Keith frowned down at the letter, which he’d already read several times and shown to Lance, but was still considering, even as his cats sat on his feet.

“Do you really think… I should do it?”

Lance leaned over his shoulder, smiling. “What, why shouldn’t you?!”

“Well, I mean… I’m happy here. And aren’t I a little late to the party? And… oh… oh no, they’re never gonna want to take me with my criminal record…”

“Hmmmm,” Lance snatched the letter out of his hands, reading it carefully. “Well, that last one might be a problem, but you can probably work around it. Oh! You should have Captain Kolivan write you a recommendation letter! He kind of owes you, after the whole thing with the opium syndicate. A word of approval from a police captain is pretty strong against a criminal record.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve… thought this through.”

Lance shrugged, tossing the letter back onto the coffee table. “Well, since I can’t go to college myself, I kind of really want you to go. I’m pretty emotionally invested in your future. But only if you want to.”

Keith frowned, biting his fingernails as he contemplated the issue. “What if I went to University of Chicago? The one you were gonna attend?”

Lance pouted for a second. “I worked HARD to get into that school… you better not just be doing this to one-up me.”

Keith grinned. “Maybe. Maybe I’m just following in a pair of reliable footsteps.”

~

It didn’t exactly go as planned. Despite his strong letters of recommendation, Keith was rejected by every school he applied to.

Admittedly, he hadn’t had the best of grades in high school.

And he was three years behind.

And some schools felt his activity in a popular ghost hunting Youtube channel was a challenge to scientific integrity (said as much in their rejection letters).

And all that was _on top_ of his criminal record.

Despite all of that, Lance was determined not to give up.

“You just need to prove that you’ve moved on from all of that, now! You’re a reformed citizen!”

Keith scowled. “You want me to stop ghost hunting?”

“What? No! No nonononono, you just need to change your image. Do some community work!”

Keith sighed, knowing where this was going. “And I’m assuming you have some ideas?”

“Absolutely!”

~

Apparently Lance had a LOT of ideas about how to continue improving the community after his death, having the mental equivalent of a forty page paper on change plans.

Before he knew it, Keith was helping paint over obscene graffiti, petitioning for road improvements, helping teach English classes to little immigrant children, working with foster programs to improve adoption rates, starting by joining groups that were pushing to make it illegal to discriminate against homosexual parents who would otherwise be eligible for adoption.

Actually, as much as Lance made it seem as if these were all of his own big ideas, Keith couldn’t help but notice how many of them seemed tailored specifically to Keith, to his experiences, his skills. Especially helping Shiro with some of his “troubled kids,” running workshops on how to get back on your feet after running up a criminal record.

“A lot of people will tell you that you only need one person to help you climb out of that hole, but… that’s not true. When you’re that deep, you’re pretty good at convincing yourself that you don’t deserve the help,” he explained nervously, even as Shiro smiled at him encouragingly. “It takes all kinds of people. I got lucky, they all just kind of… fell into my life without my permission.”

At this, a few kids, and Lance, laughed.

“Um, I had Shiro, who you all know, and he never gave up on me, even if, despite all of his efforts, I didn’t change much. It took some extra people.”

He bit his lip, looking over the heads of the curious, but lost-looking kids. “But you also need at least one person who’s going to care about you without your permission. They’ll push their way in and force you to come to realities about yourself you don’t like. It’s easy to try and push those people away, but… if you really want to get better, to stay out of jail… let them in.”

He cleared his throat, blinking quickly before anyone noticed. “Anyway, about jobs…”

~

After two years, he was finally accepted to the University of Chicago.

Actually, it was kind of funny, because Pidge, fresh out of high school, had just decided to attend the University of Michigan, thus making her Keith’s arch-rival.

“Of course, that’s sports, which neither of us give a shit about,” she admitted, sliding her EM reader back into the side pocket of her now ragged-looking backpack. “And even intellectually we’re in different departments, so…”

Pidge, naturally, was already an established authority on energy particle physics and multi-dimensional theory, so despite her repertoire in the supernatural, was snapped up by colleges immediately.

“But… doesn’t this mean…” Hunk’s voice caught, and he had to clear his throat and try again. “Doesn’t this mean that… the gang’s breaking apart?”

They fell silent, finally having to acknowledge the fact that they’d been denying for ages, that no one had wanted to say until now. Matt was accepting a programming and management position in the Twin Cities. Hunk was moving to Hawaii to work on aeronautical engineering, while Allura was fairly happy right where she was. And with Pidge moving to Michigan and Keith going to Chicago…

“We really are all separating, aren’t we?”

Keith sat down on the curb outside of the haunted house they’d just cleared out and then exited, sighing as he looked up at the starless sky. Summer again, almost a perfect five years since he’d first met all of them, starting with Lance.

“It’s been an honor working with you all,” he managed.

“God, you make it sound like we’re about to _die,"_ Hunk chided, plopping down on the curb next to him.

“It is not as if it is impossible for us to see each other,” Allura added, joining them. “We can videochat!”

“Yeah! And Matt and I aren’t going to stop ghost-hunting just because we’re in different states,” Pidge remarked. “Though… it’s not gonna be as easy without you guys around...”

All sitting on the sidewalk, not knowing what else to say, they sat in silence for a long while, taking comfort in each other.

Finally, Keith stood up again, brushing the dust from his jeans. “Well, then this isn’t goodbye.”

Hunk grinned. “Nah, just a see-you-later.”

~

The next few months were a whirlwind. Everyone was finalizing plans, figuring out where they were going to be living, how they were going to handle new jobs, and Keith was no exception. He’d finally found a new apartment nearby the school, mostly financed by the scholarships he’d worked his butt off to apply for, and his mom had promised to come back and help him move.

The more days ticked by, the more unsettled he felt. He should feel happy about all of it, but…

“Are you really going to be okay?” he murmured to Lance, looking around at the packed-up notebooks, the clothes and dishes arranged in his two old suitcases, just like old times. “You’re bonded to this place and… if I leave…”

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance scolded gently, pressing his translucent hands against Keith’s cheeks, “My tie to the Earth hasn’t been that wardrobe in _years_. It grows weaker every day.”

“But--”

“I thought you’d have figured it out by now. It’s been _you._ I made my peace with my family, and… I don’t feel so guilty. I stay here because the best world I know of is the one that has you in it.”

Keith’s face warmed up, and he moved away from Lance. “You are so cheesy.”

“We were having a _moment!”_

~

_Moments were precious to Lance, knowing that his contract time was coming to an end. Coran never said anything about it when he dropped by, probably out of kindness, but it was always at the back of his mind, like a ticking clock counting down every second he had left together with Keith._

_He spent time relishing the ordinary, the things he’d gotten used to. Playing with Keith’s hair, watching him sleep without snoring, listening to the scratch of his pen against his notebook as he wrote poems, or the sound of Keith’s laugh after Lance had cracked a stupid joke. Taking the cats out for a walk, sitting on swings at the park, watching dumb anime and tv shows until Keith couldn’t keep his eyes open._

_Lance spent as little time as he could in the ‘other place,’ not wanting to waste a single moment. Not when every one of them counted._


	17. Time Stops

When everything was shoved into the trunk and backseat of his car, the apartment completely emptied out, Keith spared it one final look, gazing at the loveseat, the counters, the cupboards that had become so comfortable to him. He slid his hand over the bare mattress, the top of the wardrobe Blue had so often stared at, before Keith had known that Lance had been there.

It looked, now, the same as it had been when he’d first arrived, fresh out of high school and foster homes, filled with anger and repressed loneliness. With the exception of the scratch marks all over the cupboards and furniture from Red’s furious claws, but Keith had long ago given up on retrieving his security deposit.

Beige walls, sun-bleached curtains, calcium-coated sink, slightly mold-spotted wall baseboard corners, spots on the floor where the varnish on the hardwood had been worn away… and a single floorboard, slightly loose, sticking out just a bit above the others.

It was all the same, as if he had never lived there at all. But it didn’t feel that way.

It wasn’t the apartment that had changed, not really. It was him, only him.

When he’d first arrived there, he’d genuinely wondered if there was any point to continuing to live. He’d convinced himself that no one would care if he died, disappeared. That it meant nothing.

That wasn’t true, he knew that now. He meant something to many people. He could make a big change in someone’s life, just by doing something small. He wasn’t alone anymore. He wasn’t broken anymore.

Finally, Keith closed the door behind himself, depositing the key into the landlord’s waiting hand.

“So you really are heading out, huh? Kinda gonna miss you, kid. You did a lot of good work around here.”

“I had help.”

The landlord shrugged. “We usually do. Well, I’ll replace those torn up doors ‘n stuff, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, and don’t worry about the heating problem.”

“Heating problem?”

“When I moved in, you said you had a lot of complaints that it was always cold in there,” Keith reminded him. “It shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“Oh, right! I was surprised you never complained to me about it! It’s been so long, I almost forgot! How’d you fix it?”

Keith smiled to himself. “I didn’t. Just got used to it. Even started to like it after a while. But I guess it finally just sorted itself out.”

The landlord looked perplexed, but shook his head. “Well, alright. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Do my best.”

He left the landlord and stepped into his car, shutting the driver’s side door as he looked back at Red, hunkered down in his carrier in the backseat, unhappy. And then at Lance in the passenger’s seat, Blue’s carrier at his feet.

“We’re cleared for takeoff, captain!” Lance cheered happily, patting Blue’s carrier. “Unhappy, but clear!”

Keith laughed, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car, heading off down the road, to the university, toward his future.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he kept seeing shapes on the side of the road, black shapes, but when he’d turn his gaze to look at them directly, they’d be gone. It left a sick feeling in his stomach, and he forced himself to ignore them. To focus on the road, and on Red’s yowling complaints.

He listened to Lance sing along with the radio, both in his forced off-key voice and his natural, beautiful one, where he would just lean back against the passenger’s seat and let the notes flow from his mouth, the wind from the open window grabbing them and pushing them toward Keith’s ears.

The voice that calmed his nerves, helped him relax, bring him back from his worst moments. The voice he loved.

In the hollow of his neck, the moldovite crystal grew warm, as if warning him of something. He’d grown so used to wearing it, he’d almost forgotten it was there until just then, when it was warming, growing hot, uncomfortably so.

And then he saw the smoke.

Just before the entrance to the highway, a big family-style restaurant was on fire, and it was spreading to the rest of the strip mall. People were stumbling out, taking refuge on the far side of the parking lot, but no firefighters had shown up yet. Why hadn’t any firefighters shown up yet?!

“Keith?” Lance questioned. “KEITH?!”

A man was being held back by others, screaming toward the store.

Someone was still in there.

He was moving on instinct when he turned the car into the driveway, slamming his feet on the brakes despite his cats’ complaints.

“Keith, what are you doing?! No, no _stop!_ ” Lance shrieked, even as he got out of the car and ran toward the building, remembering his father, how often his father had told him that it was never the flames he was afraid of, it was the idea that someone could die in the fire if he didn’t do something about it.

_I guess a part of me thought that since my dad died in a fire, if I made one, he’d come back to me through it, or something._

He’d said that to Lance, once, hadn’t he? His obsession with fire? After losing his father to it, you’d think he’d be afraid. He wasn’t.

He smashed the window like it was nothing, covering his mouth and nose with the collar of his shirt, keeping low through the flames licking around him, already so hot that his skin was burning.

A middle-aged man, collapsed on the ground, too much smoke inhaled. Keith hauled him up, glad for his time at the gym, his fast reflexes trained from his time facing ghosts.

Screaming. A little girl, crying.

Everything was burning, burning, and his lungs screamed at him for proper oxygen, even underneath his shirt.

He scrambled through the collapsing building, trying to find the source of the screaming, ducking bits of wall crumbling with the flame.

He could hear Lance, too, following him through the flame, frantic, begging him to come back out.

 _Once I get this kid out,_ he promised silently, not willing to waste precious air on the words.

At last, he found her, just as the screaming fell silent and she practically collapsed into him.

His arms full, and weighed down by the older man, his footsteps were slow, sluggish. He wasn’t a fireman, like his father. He didn’t know what he was doing. Where had he come from? Where was the fire exit?!

“Keith, here! This way!”

_Lance._

He followed the voice, the flashes of cool blue against the raging red of the fire that ate away at his skin, his hair. The door, the sound of sirens arriving, finally, finally some help.

A creak, a groan, snapping sounds above him.

He threw the man from his shoulder, and tossed the girl with all his might, watching them roll almost all the way to the door as the ceiling came crashing down on him.

~

_Lance watched it all happen, even as certain as he’d been, for the briefest moment, that Keith was going to make it. He was going to be okay._

_“KEITH!” He screamed, screamed it, his emotions storming completely out of control. Around him, he could swear the fire was dying, fading out. That’s right-- he could make things colder._

_He rushed to the rubble, the collapsed flame, blinking his glittering tears away and trying to move the rubble, to cool the flames. But it was hard to concentrate, when he felt like this. Too hard for him to be able to keep his hands from going straight through the burning timber and cinder blocks, for seconds, minutes to tick by and nothing was happening, no one was coming. Keith was still trapped under the rubble. Suffocating. Burning._

_He remembered the ghost child, the way he had made his own tornado, lifting the ruins of his own house without even moving a finger. Remembered the way he had stopped him._

_“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here!” Lance cried, clenching his fists and trying to calm himself, even as his tears were making it difficult to see._

_He just had to lift the broken pieces of the ceiling._

_Behind him, jets of water came streaming at the building, and firefighters in full gear were pushing their way in, retrieving the man and young girl Keith had risked his life to rescue._

_He just had to lift the broken pieces of the ceiling._

_It shuddered, and he felt like his entire soul was about to shatter with the effort, until finally, with a creak, it went sailing upwards, crashing somewhere amidst the blaze._

_He called out for Keith, for his love, for his anchor, but he wasn’t moving._

_Unconscious._

_Broken._

_Bloody._

_He tried to grab Keith, to move him away, but it wasn’t working, it was too slow, he’d never make it in time._

_There was only one way._

_He steeled himself, then stepped into Keith’s body._

_He’d never tried possession before, found it far too invasive. But he didn’t have time to care right now. Even as he forced Keith’s limbs to move, he could feel the breaks. The blood in places it shouldn’t be. The strange angles at which his legs were bent. It was the first time he’d been inside a body in more than eight years, and it felt so incredibly_ **_wrong_** _._

_He half-crawled out of the blaze just as it was finally put to rest, as the firefighters surged forward, grabbed ahold of Keith’s arms and helped him walk, shouting instructions to each other._

_He couldn’t continue holding on. He let Keith’s body fall, feeling his own strength beginning to fade._

_No._

_Keith was his anchor._

_If he was fading, then Keith was…_

_No._

~

Keith was aware of the things around him as if his mind had shrunk in on itself and hid in a small, dark corner of his body. Everything was distant, cloudy. The voices of the EMTs pushing oxygen into his shriveled lungs were coming to him from another room. The fire and ambulance sirens pulsed down a distant highway.

The pain was the only thing that he could feel, close and demanding, blocking out everything else and shoving it far away from his limp body. He wasn’t sure if he was conscious or not.

Where was Lance? What about his cats? He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t meant to leave them alone. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He needed to save his cats… it was hot outside and they were in the car and…

_“I’m here, I’m with you.”_

“Lance?” he croaked, even as the EMTs held him down, poured stuff on his burns, on his breaks, pumped adrenaline into his body to keep his heart running.

_“I’m here.”_

“You’re… in me?”

_“I’m sorry, it was the only way…”_

The EMTs, far away: “He’s talking, he’s still conscious! Hurry up with the sedative; the pain alone could stop his heart.”

“The cats… what about… my cats?”

“The firefighters noticed them yowling and pulled them into the fire engine. Now, sir, I’m going to need you to stop talking and focus on breathing.”

He did, every breath scalding until the painkillers kicked in.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In…

He was being pushed into the hospital, more voices around him. Someone was pulling the clothes from his body, prying the silver chain of his moldovite necklace from where it had seared its way into his skin. He was conscious, unconscious, conscious again as men and women in scrubs stood all around him, talking to each other in rushed words, poking at his numb body. Unconscious again, embracing the darkness, remembering the black things he’d seen in the corner of his vision that day. They looked just like this.

Lance was with him in that darkness, and he was crying, he was crying so much…

Conscious again, this time in a quiet room, except for the heart monitor beeping in the corner, and the hum of the dozens of machines hooked up to the scarred remains of his body. Lance sat next to him on the bed, his face buried in his hands. “This is my fault… this is all my fault…”

Then voices from outside the room: “I’m very sorry, Mrs… Kogane, but… your son’s condition is very severe. We’ve done all we can, but with the combination of broken bones, internal bleeding, and smoke inhalation... the machines are about all that’s keeping him alive at this point. He’s unlikely to last the night.”

“But he’s in there, right? We can go see him?”

_Hunk._

“Family only, son.”

His mother’s voice: “I’m the only biological family he has left that isn’t in prison. But if he were awake, I can promise you he would say that these kids are as much if not more his family than I am, and I _demand_ you allow them inside to say goodbye.”

“Please, sir; we will not have another chance.”

_Allura._

“...alright.”

A door opening. Footsteps. Flashes of clothing, yellow, green, blue, black, violet… a hand against his palm.

“Keith?”

“I’m… here.”

Shiro’s voice was strained, more than he could ever remember it being. “I… got your cats from the fire station. Adam’s looking after them.”

Hunk: “Does it… hurt a lot? You don’t look really good.”

“Don’t worry, it’s much worse than it looks,” he tried to joke, even though he could feel the dark mood in the room. “No, I can’t feel much at all. They pumped me full of a lot of drugs.”

Allura moved to the other side of the room, resting her hands on Lance’s shoulders. “Lance? Are you alright?”

“It’s all my fault… GOD, this is all my fault… Coran was right, I… I changed the path of his life and now he’s going to die, and I can’t… I’m the one who insisted he go to college, who made him work so hard… this never would’ve happened if it wasn’t for me. I’m so sorry…”

“Lance, no,” Keith grumbled, looking up at him, taking him in, the dim blue light, the stupid cat-faced pajamas, the glistening, waterless tears that flowed steadily from his eyes. “You’ve had enough guilt for one lifetime.”

“Is he talking to Lance?” Pidge whispered.

“I think so,” Hunk whispered back.

At this, Keith lifted a hand to his throat, feeling the absence of the moldovite crystal, yet was still able to see Lance as clearly as ever.

“Where… is my necklace?”

“Oh, it’s here in the box they gave me of your personal effects,” his mother answered, her hand slipping out of his as she shuffled through the box, pulling it out and holding it out to him.

“Allura… you can… have it back.”

Allura stiffened, her hand over her mouth. “Keith, I…”

“You told me… when you gave it to me, that I’d give it back to you someday. That I’d know when the time came. I know now.”

Gingerly, she reached out and pulled it from Krolia’s grip, sliding it into the pocket of her dress. “You can see death, can’t you?” she whispered.

He could. It was stepping through his wall as he watched, as the heart monitor’s beeping slowed. “I want you… to take care of Blue, Allura. You’re the only person she loves almost as much as Lance.”

“I… alright.”

“And Shiro… thank you for everything. Can you… handle Red?”

“You got it, kiddo.”

Finally, he looked up at Pidge, Hunk, and Matt, all fighting back tears. “I guess, this time it really _is_ goodbye.”

“You could always stick around as a ghost,” Pidge suggested, her voice thick. “Keep helping out.”

Gingerly, Keith shook his head. “No. Lance and I have places to go.”

His heart was giving out, he could just barely feel it.

“It was an honor… meeting you all.”

The heart monitor flatlined, and doctors came flooding into the room, but Keith wasn’t there anymore, even as they pushed his friends out, pulsing electricity into his broken body.

He helped Lance to his feet, surprised at the warmth against his hand. He faced Coran, tears flowing liberally down the reaper’s face. “Thank you, Coran.”

But Lance was still watching the doctors try in vain to restart Keith’s heart, horror playing over his face. “This is my fault. You’re dead and it’s my fault.”

Keith reached up, smooshing his beautiful face between his palms, running his fingers through the beautiful brown curls, and staring him straight in the eyes as he said, “No, Lance, you’re not the reason I died. You’re the reason I ever tried to _live_.”

And he kissed that boy. Even if it was the most unromantic moment ever, he could _touch_ him, and he could feel his warmth, and hold him in his arms, and he felt more free than he had felt in ten, fifteen years. Even when he pulled away from Lance’s lips he still held on tight, words escaping his mouth even before he could think them. “I love you, you idiot.”

“I love you too, mullet.”

When finally they parted, Coran tapped the wall in embarrassment, opening the portal and holding his hand out to Lance. “Well, as I promised, your five years are expired. Are you ready to go now, my boy?”

Lance’s hand curled tightly around Keith’s, and he pouted at Coran. “You gave me those five years knowing this would happen, didn’t you?”

Coran sighed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “It was the closest thing to a happy ending I could give you.”

Lance sighed, then peered into the portal. Behind him, the doctors were shutting off the machines, announcing time of death. “...alright, I’m coming.”

They stepped through the portal together, following behind Coran at a distance, as the reaper rotated between crying and telling them terrible jokes about death and his own experience meeting the “people upstairs.”

They held hands as they walked through the tunnel, staring off into the distance, at the bright pinprick of light at the far end. “Hey Coran?” Lance asked.

“What is it?”

“Is there any way we can… try again? You know… so we can meet each other a little earlier next time. So I can love him without feeling like it’s doomed from the start?”

Coran paused, looking back at them and frowning. “Well… I’m afraid it’s not me you’ll have to convince. But…” he smiled. “I think you’ve got a pretty good case. Now step it up, you’ve got places to go!”

“Can we drop by Cuba first? Just a look?” Keith tossed out, leaning happily into Lance’s shoulder.

“What?! Oh, alright, but only for a few minutes. Let me just go and change our exit point…”

The reaper hurried ahead, muttering to himself, leaving Keith and Lance behind in the quiet of the shadow tunnel.

“We should adopt a dog next time,” Keith suggested as they walked.

“Yeah, like a chihuahua! Or one of those REALLY poofy ones… Pomeranians?”

“No, like a big, fluffy dog. Lots of drool. I always wanted one when I was a kid.”

“Hmmm… fine. But we still have to have cats. At _least_ two cats.”

“Red and Blue mark 2?”

“You’re still a poet, even after you’re dead, huh?”

“You’re gonna get tired of it.”

“Impossible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, this was the ending I had planned for this story before I ever began actually writing it. I had to physically restrain myself from replying to last chapter's comments with "whatever you think is going to happen, it's worse."
> 
> We all knew from the beginning that there was no good way for this story to end. But I still had to write it.  
> Thank you all for reading, and I hope you stick around for the epilogue!


	18. Epilogue

“It’s a sizable apartment for the area,” the landlord said, holding the door open for the lost-looking kid, waving his hands forward. “Separate bedroom and living room, and fully furnished. Haven’t had any complaints about it, but I guess I’ve just been waiting for the right tenant to show up.”

The teenager ran her finger over the loveseat, over the counters, the wardrobe, blowing the dust off of the ends. “Is it true that the poet...Keith Kogane lived here near the end of his life?”

The landlord paused. “Oh yeah, I suppose he is gettin’ kinda famous now, isn’t he? Yeah, he lived here for a while. Good kid, if a bit emo. He turned out alright, though. I was proud I got to see him grow into a man.”

“I’ll take it.”

The landlord, getting on in years now, frowned at her, at her torn skintight jeans, the worn backpack slung over her shoulder, the perpetual frown on her face. “You sure? You’ve barely looked at the place.”

“I’m sure.”

After a moment’s silence, the landlord sighed, fighting back a smile, then dug in his pocket and retrieved the key, holding it out to her as he said, “I guess I can’t say no to that, now, can I?”

~

Mrs. Alvarez sifted through the photos with care, choosing only the best ones to go into the photo album. She didn’t mind that Lance was blurry and out-of-focus in every single one of them, she wanted at least one where she could see her two youngest sons together, smiling. The photo of them underneath the California sign should be good enough.

She slid it into a picture frame and set it up on the display shelf, right next to Lance’s high school diploma, lovingly running her finger over her son’s smiling face.

“Mamá, what about this one? Keith working in Lance’s community garden?”

Mrs. Alvarez wiped her eyes and nodded. “Oh yes, put that one in the album. Next to the one of Lance and Juanita.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Marco consoled, patting her on the back. “We’ll take care of this. You and Veronica should be heading out.”

“Right. I’m counting on the two of you. I want _all_ my sons to look their best in that photo album when I get back.”

They gave her a mock-salute, grinning. “We’re on it, Mamá.”

~

Blue sat calmly on Allura’s shoulder, tail swishing gently as she considered Allura’s client.

“I’ve purified the negative energy that’s been haunting you,” Allura announced, smiling encouragingly. She felt a little strange, having an actual parlor instead of a street stand, but it was nice to sit down while she worked. “There was a simple misunderstanding.”

“Oh, what a relief, I feel better already,” the woman sighed, a hand on her chest. “There were so many people I went to that called me crazy for thinking I was haunted. But therapy wasn’t helping. I’m glad I could go to you. I remember… I saw you on that Youtube channel… what was it, ‘The Ghost Gang’? Big fan.”

“Ah yes, well, that was a few years ago,” Allura replied, blushing a bit. “But I’m glad I did it. I don’t think I would be here today without the people I met through that work.”

The woman shrugged, then stood and looked around at the various crystals on display, stopping at the moldovite crystal necklace, hanging from the mannequin displaying the locations of different chakras.

“Oh? Isn’t this moldovite? You talked about it in one of the videos, how it works to improve second Sight. How... much is it?”

Allura got to her feet, hurriedly stopping the woman’s hand. “I’m sorry, but that particular crystal is not for sale.”

“Why not?”

Allura looked down at it sadly, her breath hitching as she closed her eyes. “For… sentimental reasons.”

She showed the woman to some other crystals, satisfied with the cleansing and with the sale once the woman had left.

She patted Blue’s head, smiling as the cat purred and rubbed her face against Allura’s ear. “Ah, I suppose we should get going, shouldn’t we, Blue? We’re the closest, after all. We have the least excuse to be late.”

Blue meowed, and Allura smiled. “I’ll just get your harness, then…”

~

Hunk finished his last tweak on the headset he was working on, setting his pliers aside and wiping the sweat from his brow. “That ought to do it!”

A knock on the door-- the facility commander, checking on his work. “You really almost finished with those high-speed goggles we commissioned you for? We only asked you for them a week ago.”

Hunk shrugged. “Believe it or not, they’re pretty similar to something I designed before. Trust me, with these things on, you’d be able to see just about anything, even the dead.”

The commander brushed the comment off, wandering over to the edge of the workbench, where a tiny vase of forget-me-nots stood out against the otherwise gears-and-wires decor of Hunk’s office. “You took over the lab management position faster than anyone could’ve guessed. Got a lot of ideas that work; won't be surprised if those goggles work, too.” He reached out and touched one of the tiny blue blossoms, raising an eyebrow at him. “I never did ask you, son, what’re the flowers for? Got a lover?”

“No, sir, those are forget-me-nots. I… guess I keep them as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“A pair of friends that I never want to forget.” He felt his heart twinge at the thought, then cleared his throat and got to his feet. “You can go ahead and take the prototype. I’m heading out.”

The commander considered this, straightening. “Oh yes, I heard you were taking two weeks vacation. Where are you going, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Oh, it’s… a memorial, back in the city I grew up.”

The commander’s face fell, but he accepted it pretty gracefully. “Well, alright. Godspeed, Dr. Garrett.”

~

Pidge exhaled deeply, glancing again at the text from her brother encouraging her to do what she knew was true, like any good scientist should.

She slid her phone back into the pocket of her slacks, closing her eyes and reminding herself that she’d fought actual ghosts without flinching, so a grant committee should be a cinch.

When her name was called, she stood up straight and entered confidently, setting her presentation notes onto the podium and facing the committee. Stating her name. Her subject of study.

She launched into her presentation, her observations, measurements, and how they intersected with the fields of astronomy, human biology, and psychology. The conclusions she’d reached, and finishing with the potential benefits of the research were it to receive greater funding.

“Because these particles can be found in our dimension, despite originating on the sixth and seventh dimensions, we can conclude definitively that there is a way to cross them, which has wide-reaching implications, in fields everywhere from medicine to space-travel.”

She set her notes down, biting her lip as she looked at the committee watching her in a mix of awe and skepticism.

The most skeptical of all was the man on the far end of the table, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. “Conceptually, we all know your work _sounds_ good, Miss Holt, but considering your _known_ obsession with the supernatural, I’m sure we can all agree that it’s a bit too good to be true.”

Pidge clenched her fist, glaring at him. “Professor, have you ever tried to prove that something doesn’t exist?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m talking about proving a negative. It’s a basic paradox. Even when just talking about things that don’t exist _anymore_ , scientists have been wrong before. Take for example evolutionary comeback stories, where a particular species is declared extinct, only to find a hidden population of it decades later?”

“Those are limited cases, Miss Holt, and I don’t see how--”

“Any good scientist relies entirely on things they can see, measure, test. Everything I have included on this presentation is limited to information that can be replicated by another researcher, with access to the proper tools. But even our own perception is limited, _professor._ That’s what my research is _about_. Just as there are variances in the number of colors people can see, there are varieties in the _types_ of particles people can see. I experienced it myself. So many of the phenomena I was testing I could pick up on my equipment, but there was someone I knew who could just _see_ it. My research was all about figuring out _why._

“You say it’s ridiculous, that it’s some kind of 'magic,' but just about all of the things we used to believe as ‘magic’ turned out to have a perfectly valid scientific explanation. You, sir, are the one limiting science to proving what _can’t_ happen, when just about everyone knows that the greatest advancements in science were all about proving that even what seems impossible _can_ happen.”

She realized the committee was staring at her in surprise, and cleared her throat. “Uh, thank you for your time.” She bowed a little bit, hurrying out the door, checking her phone as soon as she was out.

Another text from Matt: “When are you leaving?”

“ASAP. Just got out of the presentation. Probably meet you there.”

A quick response: “How’d it go?”

“...kinda blew up at one of the committee members.”

“Oops. Not surprised, though.”

~

Adam gave Shiro a quick kiss before he headed toward the door, having to leave first because his precinct was further. “Sorry I can’t come to the ceremony today. I’ll drop by once I’m done with work, though.”

Shiro shrugged, finishing the ordeal of hitching Red up to his harness. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a stop to make after work, too.”

After Adam left, Shiro got the cats to behave on their walk, Blackie lumbering ahead while Red always wanted to stop and investigate, sniff, fight. Fortunately, he’d mellowed out a lot, since he was getting up there in age (for a cat). But Shiro didn’t like to think about that much, considering the cat’s significance to him. He liked Red’s feistiness, his stubborn determination. He really was just like Keith.

They arrived at the station, heading into the office area where his “problem kids” were all waiting. As usual, their eyes lit up when they saw the cats.

He let them get distracted by Blackie’s massive floof, or playing with Red, dedicating a whole ten-fifteen minutes to letting the cats and kids get comfortable with each other before he even tried talking to them. When finally Red was curled up on the lap of a teenage arsonist and Blackie was happily getting petted by four petty thieves at once, he started talking.

“I know you think I’m here to tell you how to stop being problems, to reform yourselves and work with society, but… I’m not.”

He registered their surprise, continuing on. “When I first became a policeman, I wanted to stop crime, to feel the satisfaction of putting away a dangerous criminal. But that’s not right at all. Sometimes the rules don’t work in your favor, and you have to work around them. I knew a Latino kid who did everything he could to make it easier for people like him. He made things fun, effortless. I never took him seriously. But honestly? He made more positive change in his community than I could ever hope to. And that’s where you kids come in.

“I know that most of you are in tough situations. But even if it’s something small, if you can help each other out, it’ll make things easier. You didn’t hear it from me, but getting in trouble is part of growing up. One of my _favorite_ kids was seriously the worst. He was always getting in trouble, and I had to haul him out of jail a bunch of times. But honestly, I don’t regret any of that. I loved putting in the work, and my only regret was that I didn’t just up and adopt him like I thought about doing a bunch of times. What I’m saying is… you have the power to affect the lives of adults, to change what they think not only about you, but about themselves. But a lot of them are way too stubborn to admit it. Here can be your safe place. Blackie and Red are good listeners, and I’m not too shabby, myself.”

He listened to all of their stories, gave them some advice, some tools to get started on projects they were thinking about, then waved goodbye to Acxa, carrying the cats’ leashes loosely. “Sorry, I’m leaving early.”

“I thought you would,” she admitted. “The captain left an hour ago. Have fun.”

“I dunno about that."

~

Krolia set the knife down onto the edge of the gravestone, crouching down in front of it. “I only wish… I’d had a little bit more time together. But I’m grateful… I at least had four years.”

She stepped back, smiling sadly down at the graves of her husband and son, shining smoothly in the warm afternoon sun, despite the autumn chill. “Happy birthday, Keith.”

She heard the car pull into the graveyard’s driveway, turning to see Shiro stepping out, closing the door before one of the two cats could escape. “I hope Keith doesn’t feel split in two, since we had half of his ashes buried here, and half of them buried with Lance. We figured it was mostly symbolic.”

Krolia chuckled, getting to her feet. “I’m sure he understands. I don’t think… if he’d never met Lance, I’m not sure I ever would have had the chance to see my son become a proper adult. I have to thank him for that.”

Shiro shrugged, gesturing toward the car. “Well, I guess you can do that today. Come on, I’ll give you a ride, as promised. You might have to shove Blackie out of the way, though...”

~

Allura smiled when she saw Pidge and Matt enter the park grounds, waving them over to her spot next to the fountain, where Blue perched royally. When they got close, she tackled Pidge with a hug, holding her tight. “Oh, I have missed you so much! I have felt so long as if my work was missing something scientific.”

“And things were so much faster when we had a little magic,” Pidge admitted, her voice muffled against Allura’s chest. But she didn’t look uncomfortable when Allura let her go, smiling confidently and looking over to the park’s new centerpiece, although it was still covered by a sheet. “Hunk, over here!”

“GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYS!!!!!!”

Allura’s hugs had nothing on Hunk’s. Big, full, squishy hugs that crushed the air out of your lungs but made you feel warmed up from the inside. He lifted all three of them up at once, then set them down, still grinning widely. “WOOOOAH, Pidge, you actually got taller!”

“What, did you think I was going to stay a midget gremlin forever?”

“Aw, come on, Lance was the only one who called you a gremlin.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve reclaimed the title.”

She grinned up at them (still the shortest, just not by quite _as_ much), her eyes misting up. “I guess the gang’s all back together, huh?”

Allura was about to answer, but just then she saw the mayor step up to the podium set up just in front of the concealed statue, adjusting his tie, and the gathered crowd, including Shiro and Krolia, who had just arrived, fell silent.

“As many of you know, today we dedicate this statue to a young man who grew up in our city, who has recently risen to prominence as the premier poet of this young generation. As a poet who has received national recognition, this city is proud to say that Keith Kogane is one of our own. But he was not just a writer, he was an example. He experienced many hardships in his life, but overcame all of them, one by one, serving in his community until his last day, aiding this city’s people of color, immigrants, and LGBT youth. Many of us don’t realize it, but it is likely that his influence has touched every one of us somehow. He died a hero, and like any hero, we will not let his flame go out. So we thank him, and name him one of our city’s star citizens. Therefore, without further ado…”

He cut the cord holding the sheet onto the statue, and it fell aside, revealing a bronze figure, standing out clearly above the heads of the crowd. Keith, easily recognizable as himself, a pen in his hand, pressed against a ragged notebook, but instead of looking at it, he was turned upwards, smiling at the person standing over his shoulder.

“This art piece was designed in his memory by one of Mr. Kogane’s former students, Mr. Levi Thao. Could you say a few words for us?”

A young, nervous-looking Asian boy took the mic, glancing up at the statue. “Um, I just… made it look like he always used to sit, whenever he had us doing exercises. I always wondered what he was looking at, so… I decided to put together the person he described in a lot of his poems.” He froze, his gaze obviously begging the mayor for help. “Um… that’s all.”

The mayor took the mic, smiling like the typical politician. “Thank you all for coming, and joining us in this young man’s memory and legacy.”

The crowd clapped, and then finally broke apart, milling around at the snack tables, conversing about poetry. Allura noticed Veronica and Clarita Alvarez, who'd they be meeting for dinner later, looking proudly up at the statue. But the gang moved closer, recognizing slight details in the art, including the scar across Keith’s right cheek.

Shiro, his cats milling about his feet, stood next to them, reading the stanza of poetry inscribed on the bronze plaque at the bottom.

 _“_ _I change with every poem I write,_ _  
_ _And proud every time that I do--  
__For if I saw the world as everyone else does,  
__I’d have never been able to meet you.”_

He chuckled. “I guess it’s a good fit.”

But what Allura was looking at was the face of the boy behind Keith’s bronze figure, the arched eyebrows, wide smile, and even at his clothes, which did look oddly like a set of pajamas. “I do have to wonder at the accuracy with which that boy captured Lance. The resemblance is… uncanny. No one could have possibly been so detailed just from the content of Keith’s poetry.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow, looking over at her. “Are you saying that kid must have _seen_ Lance, one of those times he was with Keith?”

Allura shrugged, smiling to herself as she turned away, scooping Blue up into her arms. “It’s not up to me to decide what’s possible or not. But I am happy that we get to see them the way that they always were: Together.”

~~~

_Keith hides shyly behind his mother, clinging a little tightly to her pants because he’s still unsteady on his too-short legs, peering out from around her at the couple she’s speaking with._

_“Come on now, Keith, don’t be shy. We just thought we’d see if you wanted a friend,” the woman says, far above him, smiling down._

_From behind the woman’s dress peeks out a small brown face, all toothy grins and blue, blue eyes. “Hi Keef! I’m Ants!”_

_“Ants?”_

_“Lance, honey. His name is Lance.”_

_The other boy steps forward, unafraid of the space between them, toddling until he and Keith are face-to-face. He reaches up, squishing Keith’s cheeks between his palms. “You’re pretty! We’re gonna be good friends! The bestest friends!”_

_Keith feels a tug at his heart, as if it is trying to tell him something he’d forgotten. But it doesn't matter now. All that matters is the boy in front of him, and the way his eyes seem to catch the sunlight, and the way his smile seems to pull Keith in._

_“Y-yeah. I think we will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've felt a lot of emotions throughout the making of this fic. At first, it was just frustration over the difficult task I'd set for myself. How do I write a romance about characters that can't even touch? It was particularly difficult for me since I'm actually not good at writing slow-burns... I get impatient, and the characters usually end up together right around the chapter five mark, lol. I like to think I did a bit better this time. 
> 
> But then Season 7 happened, and I honestly, for a few days, couldn't even bear to think about the show, and had to step back and reconsider why I did all of this. What about Voltron: Legendary Defender had I loved so much that I could feel so destroyed, so empty when I was disappointed? To be honest, I still don't have the answer. But I loved Klance, and I still do. I came back to this fic because no matter how disappointed I felt, I still had to finish the story I had planned so carefully. Every bit of foreshadowing, of allusion... that was planned. I didn't want to just leave it hanging there. I'm glad I didn't.  
> I'm sure anyone who's been paying attention noticed the little references to the events of Season 7, and my blatant disregard for Adam's death. Those things weren't planned. But it's my story; I get to decide what's in it.
> 
> I still hope that, despite all of those emotions, the one you were most able to feel from this fic was love. The love I have for the characters, and that I imagine they have for each other. I hope it does not feel like anger, or regret. I'm happy I finished it. I would not have wanted it any other way.
> 
> As usual, if anyone wants to scream at me, chat, or send me memes, you can shoot me a message on my tumblr: username elfenphoenix, same as here. :)


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